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IMAGE  EVALUATION 
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7 


A 


/- 


.V 


z 


12.2 


Hiotographic 

Sciences 

Corporation 


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CIHM/ICMH 

Microfiche 

Series. 


CIHM/ICMH 
Collection  de 
microfiches. 


^• 


Canadian  Institute  for  Historical  MIcroreproductions  /  Institut  Canadian  de  microreproductlons  historlques 


Technical  and  Bibliographic  Notes/Notes  techniques  et  bibliographiques 


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which  may  alter  any  of  the  images  in  the 
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the  usual  method  of  filming,  are  checked  below. 


^ 


Coloured  covers/ 
Couverture  de  couleur 


I      I    Covers  damaged/ 


n 

D 
D 


n 


n 


Couverture  endommag^e 

Covers  restored  and/or  laminated/ 
Couverture  restaur6e  et/ou  pellicul^e 

Cover  title  missing/ 

Le  titre  de  couverture  manque 

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pas  6t6  film^es. 

Additional  comments:/ 
Commentaires  suppl6mentaires; 


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une  Image  reproduite,  ou  qui  peuvent  exiger  une 
modification  dans  la  mdthode  normale  de  filmage 
sont  indiquds  ci-dessous. 


I      I    Coloured  pages/ 


D 
D 
D 
D 
D 


D 
D 


Pages  de  couleur 

Pages  damaged/ 
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Pages  restored  and/or  laminated/ 
Pages  restaurdes  et/ou  pellicul^es 

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Transparence 


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obtenir  la  meilleure  image  possible. 


This  item  is  filmed  at  the  reduction  ratio  checked  below/ 

Ce  document  est  film6  au  taux  de  reduction  indiqu^  ci-dessous. 


10X 

14X 

18X 

22X 

26X 

SOX 

X 

12X 


16X 


20X 


28X 


32X 


9 

Stalls 
s  du 

lodifier 
r  une 
Image 


The  copy  filmed  here  has  been  reproduced  thanks 
to  the  generosity  of: 

Library  of  Congress 
Photoduplication  Service 

The  images  appearing  here  are  the  best  quality 
possible  considering  the  condition  and  legibility 
of  the  original  copy  and  in  keeping  with  the 
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L'exemplaire  filmA  fut  reproduit  grAce  d  la 
gAnirositA  de: 

Library  of  Congress 
Photoduplication  Service 

Les  images  suivantes  ont  6X6  reproduites  avec  le 
plus  grand  soin,  compte  tenu  de  la  condition  et 
de  la  netteti  de  l'exemplaire  i\\m6.  et  en 
conformity  avac  les  conditions  du  contrat  de 
fiimage. 


IS 


Original  copies  in  printed  paper  covers  are  filmed 
beginning  with  the  front  cover  and  ending  on 
the  last  page  with  a  printed  or  illustrated  impres- 
sion, or  the  back  cover  when  appropriate.  All 
other  original  copies  are  filmed  beginning  on  the 
first  page  with  a  printed  or  illustrated  impres- 
sion, and  ending  on  the  last  page  with  a  printed 
or  illustrated  impression. 


The  last  recorded  frame  on  each  microfiche 
shall  contain  the  symbol  — »-  (meaning  "CON- 
TINUED"), or  the  symbol  V  (meaning  "END"), 
whichever  applies. 

IVIaps,  plates,  charts,  etc..  may  be  filmed  at 
different  reduction  ratios.  Those  too  large  to  be 
entirely  included  in  one  exposure  are  filmed 
beginning  in  the  upper  left  hand  corner,  left  to 
right  and  top  to  bottom,  as  many  frames  as 
required.  The  following  diagrams  illustrate  the 
method: 


Les  exemplaires  originaux  dont  la  couverture  en 
papier  est  imprimie  sont  filmis  en  commengant 
par  le  premier  plat  et  en  terminant  soit  par  la 
derniftra  page  qui  comporte  une  empreinte 
d'imprassion  ou  d'illustration,  soit  par  le  second 
plat,  salon  le  cas.  Tous  les  autres  exemplaires 
originaux  sont  film6s  en  commenpant  par  la 
premiere  page  qui  comporte  une  empreinte 
d'imprassion  ou  d'illustration  et  en  terminant  par 
la  dernlAre  page  qui  comporte  une  telle 
empreinte. 

Un  des  symboles  suivants  apparaitra  sur  la 
derniAre  image  de  cheque  microfiche,  selon  le 
cas:  le  symbole  -^  signifie  "A  SUIVRE  ",  le 
symboie  V  aignifie  "FIN  ". 

Les  cartes,  planches,  tableaux,  etc.,  peuvent  dtre 
film6s  A  des  taux  de  reduction  diffdrents. 
Lorsque  ie  document  est  trop  grand  pour  dtre 
reproduit  en  un  seul  clich6,  il  est  film6  6  partir 
de  Tangle  supArieur  gauche,  de  gauche  6  droite, 
et  de  haut  en  bas,  en  prenant  le  nombre 
d'imagas  nicessaire.  Les  diagrammes  suivants 
illustrent  la  mdthode. 


srrata 
to 


pelure, 
>n  d 


n 


32X 


1 

2 

3 

1 

2 

3 

4 

5 

6 

-^11 


'■"©" 


PZ 
3 

\Te9iil 


V 


-; 


^ 


/ 


(yLo^oi\'  juxdx.  y 


i^ 


BOSTON: 

N.  H.  WHITNEY  &  CO.,  PUBLISHERS, 

1878. 


fr 


1 


!  '■i  . 


if 
V 


COPVRIOHT,  1877,  BY 

N.  H.  WHITNEY  &  CO. 


Stereotyped  and  Printed  iy 

Rand,  Avery,  and  Company, 

ttj  Franklin  Street, 

Boston. 


,ti'tiiti-r*^"~"" 


v-mi-'T-if, 


AUTHOR'S   NOTE. 


y, 


TN  the  expectation  that  the  situations  described 
-"■  in  this  little  book  will  be  very  generally  recog- 
nized, and,  as  a  consequence,  the  author's  real  name 
generally  known,  or  supposed,  I  wish  to  state  that 
the  work  was  written  in  the  Jirst  person  to  accom- 
modate what  seemed  to  be  a  demand  growing  out 
of  the  peculiarities  of  the  incidents  which  form  the 
subject  matter  of  the  sketch.  Hence  the  reader 
is  at  liberty  to  suppose  the  writer  and  Jean  Clark- 
son  identical,  or  two  persons,  as  the  case  may 
require,  or  as  will  best  suit  his  or  her  fancy. 
There  is  a  reality  about  the  matter,  either  one  'vt-y 
or  the  other. 


4 


■'-i''  .  :'-U:'.^-&-'---^^""''''"-  ■^-'- I'-'-'fm'ifrm 


THAT  YOUNG   MAN. 


CHAPTER   I. 

LOTTA,  my  wife,  had  spent  the  afternoon  in 
sorrow.      The  hours  before  my  return  were 
few,  but  to  her  long  and  heavy. 

Dinner  over,  I  had  left  the  rooms  in  our  hotel, 
and  busied  myself  with  important  work  at  the  of- 
fice, little  suspecting  that  dreadful  news  — a  fear- 
ful disclosure,  I  ought  to  say,  — was  being  poured 
into  the  astonished  ears  of  my  devoted  wife  during 
my  absence. 

I  had  come  into  the  belief  that  my  secret,  or  sin, 
was  forever  buried,  and  would  be  remembered  ever 
after  only  by  three  persons,  each  of  whom  was 
equally  interested  with  myself  in  keeping  it  within 
their  own  breasts.     But,  alas!    there  is  nothing 

-  ,  ■   $ 


,  3 


-sJii'isaigK^jtiAt.iS.^j'i.u. -3.  x$i'!~ 


.t»ni»»_,»"r 


$  THAT  YOUNG  MAN. 

truer  in  the  "Book  of  God,  than,  "  Be  sure  your  sin 
will^ind  you  out." 

Six  o'clock  had  come  :  the  business  for  the  day 
was  over  ;  and,  as  my  thou-lits  ran  swiftly  over  the 
transactions  of  the  afternoon,  which  were  by  no 
means  without  profit,  my  heart  took  fresh  courage, 
and  my  hopes  lifted  themselves  into  a  higher  range  ; 
while  the  unrest  of  a  troubled  conscience  within, 
which  had  been  yearning  in  vain  for  righteous  via- 
dication,  was  once  more  hushed  into  involuntary 

quiet. 

Lotta  heard  my  returning  footsteps  on  the  stair- 
case, and  was  standing  in  the  half-open  door  of  our 
suite  to  receive  me  with  her  usual  smiles  and  kiss 
of  welcome  ;  but  it  seemed  to  me  that  she  never 
looked  half  so  beautiful  as  now.  Her  face  was 
radiant,  as  with  the  consciousness  of  recent  or  ap- 
proaching victory.  Her  blue  eyes  flashed  softly, 
but  there  was  the  bright  fire  of  firm  resolve  in 
them.  S^ie  took  charge  of  my  hat  and  overcoat, 
with  an  eagerness  that  seemed  fraught  with  an 
ecstatic  joy.  In  short,  that  she  felt  a  new  interest 
in  me,  was  manifest  in  every  action. 

"  O  Jean,  Jean !  how  I  do  love  you,  with  all  my 
heart !     How  devotedly  I  have  loved  you  these  ten 


■rffliHiiNflTHilil 


dir-iTil'r-^-  --^-"-— "■■ 


■f*** 


■mmnNHifWiCMi^ 


ure  your  sin 

s  for  the  day 
iitly  over  the 
wore  by  no 
•csh  courage, 
lighcr  range  ; 
ience  witlun, 
righteous  vin- 
D  involuntary 

on  the  stair- 
Mi  door  of  our 
lilcs  and  kiss 
hat  she  never 
Her  face  was 
recent  or  ap- 
flashed  softly, 
im  resolve  in 
and  overcoat, 
lught  with  an 
1  new  interest 

u,  with  all  my 
you  these  ten 


THAT  YOUNG  MAN.  7 

years,  but  never  so  much  as  now ! "  and,  as  if  to 
emphasize  her  words,  or  force  the  reality  of  their 
meaning  upon  me,  she  threw  herself  into  my  lap, 
and.  with  both  arms  about  my  neck,  kissed  mc  pas- 
sionately. 

"  That  is  pretty  well  done,  Lotta,"  said  I :  "  you 
must  have  been  rehearsing  that  on  the  chamber- 
maid  this  afternoon.     There  is  a  dramatic  air  about 
it  not*  all  your  own,  but  the  acting  is  good.     It 
must  be  something  costly  this  time!     I  haven't 
seen  any  thing  to  come  up  to  this,  since  you  fell 
into  a  passion  for  that  two-hundrcd-doUar  silk  vel- 
vet, in  which  you  look  so  charming  to-night.     You 
shall  have  it,  you  shall  have  it,  no  matter  what 
it  is  ;  but  let  me  rise  and  wash  for  tea." 

"  O  Jean,  Jean  ! "  was  the  only  reply  ;  and  she 
still  held  me,  with  her  arms  both  about  my  neck, 
but  with  her  face  now  hid  in  my  bosom. 

"What  is  the  matter?"  I  asked,  at  the  same 
time  trying  to  raise  her  from  me. 

«  Do  you  love  me,  Jean  ? "     Her  voice  was  fill- 
ing rapidly.  *  : 
•    "Certainly,  Lotta!     Of  course  I  love  you,  and 
only  you.    Why  do  you  ask  .'  "     But  now  I  felt  a 
strange  mistrust  rising  within  me.     She  had  dis- 


irr-^"'-"'^ 


^^Jt^'^h^^J^ 


8 


THAT  YOUNG  MAN, 


covered,  in  some  way,  every  secret  that  I  had 
desired  to  keep  from  her  ;  and  I  had  almost  decided, 
in  my  own  mind,  that  at  some  time  or  another  she 
would  come  into  possession  of  this  last  and  most 
important  of  them  all. 

"  Oh,  because  I  am  afraid  you  have  given  your 
heart  to  another  !  Yes,  to  another,  to  another!  at 
last  I  am  to  be  cast  off  !  "  She  sobbed  out  these 
words,  still  holding  mc  firmly. 

"  What  do  you  mean,  Lotta .'  You  are  crazy. 
You  frighten  me  :  raise  up  quickly !  " 

"  I  am  not  crazy.  I  am  heart-broken,  I  am 
killed  !  O  Jean,  Jean,  Jean  !  "  and  she  wept  con- 
vulsively. 

It  was  now  plain  that  Lotta  had  heard  some- 
thing. To  me  it  was  not  a  question  as  to  what, 
but  how.  I  resolved  to  commit  myself  as  little  as 
possible,  and  remained  silent. 

"  How  could  you  deceive  me  ;n  this  way  ?  oh, 
how  could  you  >  What  will  become  of  me  ?  I  will 
die,  die  broken-hearted  !  " 

"What  is  the  matter?  Do  explain  quickly:  I 
am  anxious  about  you  !  " 

"  Anxious  ?  Do  you  love  me  ?  that  is  all  I  want 
to  know !    That  I  will  know,  must  know !    Tell 


THAT  YOUNG  MAN, 


t  that  I  had 
Imost  decided, 
r  another  she 
last  and  most 

/e  given  your 

0  another!  at 
bed  out  these 

fou  are  crazy. 

-broken,  I  am 
she  wept  con- 

1  heard  some- 
)n  as  to  what, 
elf  as  little  as 

this  way?  oh, 
of  me  ?    I  will 

lain  quickly :  I 

lat  is  all  I  want 
U  know!    Tell 


me  truly :  I  can  bear  it,"  she  added,  without  chan- 
ging her  position. 

"  Yes  :  you  know  I  love  you.  But  do  explain 
yourself.  Tell  me  what  you  mean :  I  am  out  of 
patience,  and  will  have  an  explanation." 

"  You  know  what  is  the  matter,  and  need  no  ex- 
planation !  "  she  replied,  raising  her  head,  and  look- 
ing me  full  in  the  face,  througli  her  tears. 

"  Do  I }  no,  I  don't,"  I  stammered,  unconscious 
of  what  I  said. 

"  O  Jean !  how  could  you,  how  could  you  do 
such  a  thing .' 

"  What  ">.  "  I  inquired,  hoping  she  would  out  with 
it,  for  now  my  suspense  had  become  unbearable. 

"  Write  such  letters  to  that  girl !  I  have  seen 
them.  You  never  wrote  such  affectionate  letters 
to  me.  You  love  her,  you  know  you  do  :  you  know 
you  do  !  "  the  last  words  being  rendered  partially 
inaudible  by  her  sobs,  as  she  dropped  her  head 
upon  my  shoulder. 

"  What  letters  .' "  I  demanded,  without  knowing 
why  I  asked  the  question,  but  hoping  in  my  mad 
excitement  to  learn  how  she  had  made  the  discov- 
ery, wl;ich  it  was  now  only  too  plain  she  had  made. 

"  I  have  seen  them  all.  There  is  no  doubt  about 
it :  they  are  in  your  own  hand\yriting !  " 


so 


THAT  YOUNG  MAN. 


"Who  has  been  here  in  my  absence?"  I  in- 
quired earnestly. 

"  The  Rev.  Mr.  Greythorn.  He  has  told  me  all. 
O  Joan,  Jean!  what  shall  I  do?  This  is  my  pay 
for  standing  by  you  through  all  these  years.  Was 
•ever  wife  truer  than  I  ?     Whv  must  I  be  treated  so 

shamefully  ? " 

"And  you  believed  him,  without  even  so  much 

as  an  explanation  from  me,  did  you  ?  "     It  was  all 

I  could  say,  and  I  felt  myself  sinking  so  rapidly 

that  something  had  to  be  said. 

"But  I  saw  the  letters!"  she  answered;  and  by 

this  time  fi.e  had  partly  suppressed  her  tears,  and 
seemed  to  grow  firmer  with  every  word. 

After  a  pause  of  about  one  minute,  in  which  my 
thoughts  -noved  rapidly,  and  in  which  Lotta  rose  • 
from  my  knee,  and  seated  herself  on  a  cushion  at 
my  feet,  with  her  eyes  looking  up  into  mine,  ex- 
pressing a  deep  anguish  and  a  firmness  that  sent  a 
cold  chill  through  my  whole  nature,  I  broke  the 

.  silence,  having,  as  I  then  supposed,  caught  her  in- 
tentions, and  said, — 

"  Lotta." 

She  looked  at  me  earnestly,  but  did  not  speak. 
The  tears  were  rolling,  at  intervals,  doAvn  her  burn- 


ij»<yj»,qi.  ■Ji'wwyjiy 


THAT   YOUNG  MAN. 


IT 


;c?"  I  in- 
told  me  all. 
is  ny  pay 
cars.  Was 
e  treated  so 

jn  so  much 

It  was  all 

J  so  rapidly 

red;  and  by 
cr  tears,  and 
:l. 

in  which  my 
1  Lotta  rose  ■ 
a  cushion  at 
ito  mine,  ex- 
is  that  sent  a 
I  broke  the 
laught  her  in- 


iid  not  speak, 
own  her  burn- 


ing cheeks.  She  was  in  deep  sorrow ;  but  there 
possessed  her  a  spirit  stronger  than  her  emotions 
of  grief,  —  a  resolve  between  which  and  her  woe 
there  seemed  to  be  a  mighty  conflict  waging,  but 
in  which  the  former  swayed  an  easy  mastery ;  and 
I  was  puzzled  to  determine  whether  there  was 
most  of  sorrow  or  of  joy  pictured  in  her  face.  She 
looked  a  real  heroine,  and  seemed  to  possess  a  will 
strong  enough  for  any  conflict ;  yet  there  was  in 
that  ever-to-be-remembered  gaze,  something  which, 
while  it  held  me  helplessly  its  victim,  inspired  me 
with  hope,  and  I  could  not  regard  her  with  fear. 

"  Lotta,"  I  repeated,  "  you  know  all,  though  you 
are  greatly  misinformed  ;  but  I  will  not  now  at- 
tempt to  discharge  myself  from  this  accusatioo. 
But  few  of  your  apprehensions  arc  true  ;  and,  with 
the  explanation  which  time  will  soon  put  upon 
them,  they  will  bear  a  vastly  different  interpreta- 
tion. I  shall  now  ask  you  to  take  my  word  for 
only  one  thing,  —  I  do  not  and  never  did  love  that 

girl ! " 

Lotta  remained  motionless,  but  her  eyes  flashed 
forth  evidci  ^cs  of  mighty  convulsions  within. 

"  If  it  is  your  wish,  Lotta,  we  will  separate.  The 
writings  may  be  drawn  ..t  any  hour,  and  you  can 


ta 


THAT  YOUNG  MAN. 


act  your  own  pleasure  about  a  divorce ;  but  you 
shall  have  fifteen  hundred  a  year  until  you  are 
again  married,  while  I  live ;  and  when  I  die  you 
already  know  how  you  arc  to  be  provided  for," 

These  were  the  igniting  strokes  ;  and  the  fires 
such  as  can  burn  only  in  a  woman's  heart,  and 
which  had  been  so  long  pent  up,  now  burst  forth  in 
volcanic  flame. 

"  Never !  "  she  cried,  "  no,  never !  I  married  you 
for  better  or  for  worse.  I  placed  my  all  upon  the 
altar,  body,  soul,  and  spirit,  ten  years  ago,  and  it 
is  there  to-night ;  nor  can  the  blackest  accusations 
of  men  or  angels  move  it.  I  love  you,  and  will  die 
loving  you.  I  have  defended  you  through  all  the 
past  years,  and  I  will  defend  you  to  the  end  of  my 
life.  I  know  your  faults,  but  I  love  you  none  the 
less;  nay,  but  more,  that  I  may  win  you  from  a 
repetition  of  them.  Leave  you,  —  separate.'  no, 
never,  while  you  love  me.  I  can  die,  if  need  be,  in 
this  struggle  ;  but  leave  you,  never!"    . 

She  stood  before  me,  no  longer  the  plain  wife 
that  she  bad  been,  no  longer  a  common  creature, 
but  a  statue  of  marvellous  beauty,  —  a  living  pic- 
ture, in  which  there  seemed  to  be  a  grand  trium- 
phal mingling  of  beauty,  virtue,  tenderness,  devo- 
tion, power,  faith,  and  love. 


!*'tp>;M-L  'm' 


)rce ;  but  you 
until  you  are 
len  I  die  you 
ided  for." 
;  and  the  fires 
I's  heart,  and 
'  burst  forth  in 

I  married  you 
/  all  upon  the 
irs  ago,  and  it 
:st  accusations 
)U,  and  will  die 
hrough  all  the 
the  end  of  my 

you  none  the 
in  you  from  a 
■  separate  ?  no, 
;,  if  need  be,  in 


THAT  YOUNG  MAN. 


n 


But  she  had  not  ended,  —  only  paused,  as  if  to 
await  the  realization  of  a  witnessing  Heaven  above, 
—  and  continued  :  — 

"  When  that  man  came  here,  and  told  his  errand, 
I  listened  patiently.  He  showed  me  the  letters, 
and  I  read  them  carefully ;  but  when  he  had  fin- 
ished, I  took  my  stand  between  him  and  the  closed 
door,  and  demanded  the  letters,  and  declared  that 
I  would  lose  my  life  rather  than  that  he  should 
depart  with  them.  I  lived  out  that  declaration 
until  they  were  consumed  in  the  fire  before  us ; 
and  then  I  bade  him  depart,  adding,  that  if  I  were 
not  a  woman,  I  would  punish  him  on  the  spot. 
Separate  .''  O  Jean !  how  could  you  say  that .'  where 
is  your  heart .'     Have  you  forgotten  our  past .' " 

"Forgive  me,  Lotta!"  was  all  I  could  say  for 
myself. 


1 


the  plain  wife 
nmon  creature, 
—  a  living  pic- 
a  grand  trium- 
iderness,  devo- 


niu  ly*  iijiiiiitiBiiiiir»~B«jiUi""i"u-'ii  i!>i'ii'>'n.iim''^".'»'iwiii'>~*' 


S4 


THAT  YOUNG  MAN. 


CHAPTER  II. 

T  MUST  now  pause  to  give  my  reader  an  intro- 
1  auction  to  Jean  and  Lotta,  and  to  note  some  of 
the  principal  events  in  their  lives.  This  is  ren- 
dered necessary  to  the  end  that  the  peculiar  situa- 
tion  described   in   the   previous   chapter   may  be 

explained. 

Jean    Clarkson   was   born   in    1848,  in  a  rural 
Eastern  district,  not  many  miles  from  the  inland 
waters  of  the  Atlantic     His  home  was  located  on 
a  pleasant  farm,  bordering  a  beautiful  bay  to  which 
had  been  given  half   the  name  of   a  noted  Eng- 
lish general.     His  father,  Guy  Clarkson,  was  poor ; 
but  as  there  were  none  who  were  rich,  for  many 
miles  around,  the  want  of  surplus  wealth  was  but 
little  felt.     There  was  no  city,  within  a  hundred 
miles  of  the  place,  and  nothiug  which  could  have 
been    properly  called   a  village   nearer   than  five 
miles.    The  place  was  intensely  rural.    The  farm 


u 


ij!.«"i»'iH,Miy-m- 


THAT  YOUNG  MAN. 


»s 


reader  an  intro- 
to  note  some  of 
s.  This  is  ren- 
e  peculiar  situa- 
;hapter   may  be 

848,  in  a  rural 
from  the  inland 
e  was  located  on 
iful  bay  to  which 
of   a  noted  Eng- 
irkson,  was  poor ; 
-e  rich,  for  many 
IS  wealth  was  but 
,vithin  a  hundred 
which  could  have 
nearer   than  five 
rural.    The  farm 


work  was  done  by  oxen,  the  grist  taken  to  and 
from  the  mill  by  oxen.  The  farm  produce  taken 
to  the  village,  and  the  tea  and  molasses  taken 
in  exchange  for  it  were  transported  by  oxen.  In 
short,  even  church-going,  when  walking  was  to  be 
avoided,  had  to  be  accomplished  by  oxen.  Horses 
were  a  great  luxury  in  that  neighborhood,  and  the 
Clarkson  family  did  not  rise  to  the  dignity  of  own- 
ing a  horse  until  Jean  had  reached  his  twelfth  year. 

Jean's  father  was  an  easy-going,  happy  farmer, 
who  loaned  to  and  borrowed  from  his  neighbors,  as 
benevolence  suggested  or  need  required,  and  was 
never  particular  about  exact  measurements,  so  long 
as  he  gave  more  than  he  received.  Two  things, 
perhaps  three,  rendered  his  becoming  rich  not  a 
supposable  question :  first,  the  resources  of  the 
whole  neighborhood,  if  strained  to  the  utmost, 
would  not  have  yielded  enough  for  that  purpose ; 
second,  he  would  have  given  it  away  as  fast  as  he 
could  have  accumulated  money ;  and,  third,  he 
never  desired  to  be  rich. 

Jean's  mother  was  energetic,  pushing,  and  pru- 
dent ;  and,  had  she  lived  where  honest  toil  was  re- 
warded, by  her  own  industry  she  would  have  en- 
riched the  family  she  reared.     In  her  rude  loom. 


iijfefaiiiift'li 


w 


1*1 


s« 


T//Ar  YOUNG  MAN. 


with  shuttle  in  hand,  and  Jean  at  the  quill-whecl, 
winding  quills,   she  wove   through   many  a  day, 
and    then,   by   the   light  of    two    tallow   candles, 
through  many  a  long  evening,  not  only  for  her  own 
family,  but  for  scores  of  other  families,  at  six  cents 
a  yard,  thus  not  only  clothing  but  feeding  her 
children  by  her  ceaseless  toil.      No  city  mother 
could    do    what    she    did.      Think    of     shearing 
forty  sheep,  washing  the  wool,  greasing  it,  carding 
it,   spinning   it,   spooling   the   cotton   warp,   then 
weaving  hundreds  of  yards,  and  all  this  by  hand ! 
But  these  days  have  passed  away,  and  the  American 
people  have  come  into  a  better  inheritance  ;  and  so 
also  has  Jean's  mother  passed  away,  into  a  better 
inheritance,  — the  heavenly,  —  where  spooling  and 
carding  and  weaving  are  no  more.  i 

Jean's  boyhood  was  not  less  wonderful  than  was 
his  manhood  strange  and  eventful.  There  seemed 
in  store  for  him  a  remarkable  experience,  and  it 
began  with  his  birth,  nay,  even  before  ;  for  eight 
days  before  that  event,  on  the  6th  of  March,  1848, 
his  father's  house  was  burned  to  the  ground  with  all 
that  it  contained  except  its  inmates,  and  Jean  came 
into  the  world  homeless.  At  the  age  of  three  and 
a  half  years,  he  conceived  a  curious  idea  from  a 


ijm.wiuji  UMAfeP-t"""  ."fjI'H!^-.  .ik" 


THAT  YOUNG  MAN. 


»7 


the  quill-whecl, 

I  many  a  day, 
tallow   candles, 

anly  for  her  own 
lies,  at  six  cents 
but  feeding  her 
No  city  mother 
ik  of  shearing 
asing  it,  carding 
:ton  warp,   then 

II  this  by  hand ! 
nd  the  American 
leritance ;  and  so 
ay,  into  a  better 
ere  spooling  and 

nderful  than  was 
1.  There  seemed 
experience,  and  it 
before  ;  for  eight 
I  of  March,  1848, 
le  ground  with  all 
2s,  and  Jean  came 
asre  of  three  and 
rious  idea  from  a 


mason  who  was  doing  some  plastering  in  a  room  in 
his  father's  house,  and  at  once  became  the  pro- 
moter and  conductor  of  an  extensive  enterprise  on 
a  similar  plan  at  the  back  of  the  house,  which  had 
been  newly  shingled.  Being  assisted  by  his  elder 
brother,  he  mixed  the  reddish  mud  into  a  sort  of 
brick  mortar,  and,  with  the  use  of  the  trowels  which 
he  removed  unobserved  from  the  mason's  tool- 
chest,  succeeded  in  plastering  the  shingled  wall 
very  neatly  with  a  coat  of  dim  red,  about  two 
inches  thick  and  as  high  as  he  could  reach. 
Being  discovered  before  staging  could  be  erected, 
he  was  thwarted  in  what  he  regarded  as  a  laudable 
enterprise ;  but  he  had  the  satisfaction  of  being 
soundly  thrashed  for  what  he  had  already  accom- 
plished. . 

The  toiling  mother  sent  him  to  school  in  the 
hope  of  gaining  some  relief  (for  his  constant  and 
unaccountable  mischief  had  become  the  pest  of 
her  life),  perhaps  quite  as  much  as  with  a  view  to 
his  education.  He  was  kept  there,  much  against 
his  will,  but  with  little  effect ;  and,  when  he  had 
reached  his  tenth  year,  his  mind  had  not  yet  mas- 
tered a  definition  of  such  terms  as  "  noun "  or 
"  verb,"  much  less  the  difference  between  them. 


sS 


THAT  YOUNG  MAN. 


At  this  age  he  passed  pretty  much  out  of  the 
control  of  any  one,  and  was  as  often  on  a  hazel- 
nut expedition  as  at  his  books  ;  but  he  found  little 
difficulty  in  persuading  his  not  over-anxious  par- 
ents that  his  studies  were  uninterrupted. 

At  the  age  of  thirteen  Jean  awakened  from  the 
careless  demeanor  of  the  country  boy,  and  began 
to  look  ahead.  He  realized  that  his  past  five  years 
at  school  had  been  worse  than  thrown  away ;  but 
he  placed  more  emphasis  upon  what  he  would  yet 
accomplish,  than  regrets  upon  what  he  had  failed 
to  do.  Thirty  or  forty  miles  distant  he  could  get 
work  at  seventy-five  cents  a  day,  in  a  coal-mine  ; 
and  he  resolved  to  bid  good-by  to  home  and  its 
scenes,  and  strike  out  for  himself,  which  he  did  at 
the  age  of  thirteen,  and  has  since  presided  over 
his   own    destinies,   through   many   a   remarkable 

experience.  •  . 

There  were  no  parting  scenes  between  the 
mother  and  her  boy  to  describe.  The  father 
neither  advised  nor  opposed  his  plan,  for  both  ex- 
pected that  his  stay  from  home  would  not  extend 
over  a  week.  But  Jean  was  not  of  the  homesick 
material,  which  his  parents  were  perhaps  too  late 
in  realizing  for  his  or  their  best  interests.  ^  ■ .. 


mm 


THAT  YOUNG  MAN. 


'9 


(luch  out  of  the 
[ten  on  a  hazcl- 
it  he  found  little 
ver-anxious  par- 
upted. 

akcned  from  the 
■  boy,  and  began 
is  past  five  years 
irown  away ;  but 
lat  he  would  yet 
lat  he  had  failed 
mt  he  could  get 
•,  in  a  coal-mine  ; 
to  home  and  its 
which  he  did  at 
ce  presided  over 
ly   a   remarkable 

es  between  the 
be.  The  father 
olan,  for  both  ex- 
A^ould  not  extend 
of  the  homesick 
perhaps  too  late 
ntcrests.  '  . 


I  will  not  detain  the  reader  with  an  account  of 
Jean's  progress  after  he  left  his  home,  until  he  had 
qualified  himself  for  the  position  of  teacher.  In 
four  years  he  had  fought  his  own  way,  unaided,  to 
a  considerable  knowledge  of  such  branches  as  are 
taught  in  the  present  average  high  school,  and  pre- 
sented himself  to  the  examining  board  for  a  license 
to  teach,  which  he  was  readily  granted. 


■»«i'W»""WF»«"»"""i  Ml*  I '  '  i««l"''^w^ 


-^mmimm^' 


•• 


TffAr  YOUNG  MAN. 


CHAPTER   III. 


1 


HAVING  said,  perhaps,  all  that  is  necessary 
of  Jean's  boyhood,  and  as  Jean  and  myself 
arc  one  and  the  same  person,  I  will  pass  from  the 
use  of  the  third  to  the  first  person  as  in  the  open- 
ing chapter. 

I  had  spent  the  winter  in  school  with  good 
results,  and  was  now  on  my  way  to  the  settlement 
of  Winthrop,  a  beautiful  valley,  dotted  thickly  with 
old-fashioned  but  pleasant  farmhouses.  I  carried 
with  me  my  license  to  teach,  granted  by  the  coun- 
ty board.  It  was  the  first  tangible  evidence  I  had 
ever  received  of  real  success.  Having  left  my 
father's  house  four  years  before,  with  almost  the 
smallest  amount  of  knowledge  possible  to  a  boy  of 
average  intelligence,  I  had  hewn  my  own  way, 
unaided,  through  many  obstacles,  to  a  fair  educa- 
tion ;  had  mastered  Chambers's  six  books  of  Euclid, 
and  the  same  author's  full  course  of  practical  math- 


^nr>rm 


•vyMV* 


■p"iw*r 


r//yfr  YOUNG  MAN. 


i\ 


lat  is  necessary 
can  and  myself 
1  pass  from  the 
I  tts  in  the  opcn- 

hool  with  good 
»  the  settlement 
:ted  thickly  with 
uses.  I  carried 
ed  by  the  coun- 
!  evidence  I  had 
Having  left  my 
with  almost  the 
siblc  to  a  boy  of 
1  my  own  way, 
to  a  fair  educa- 
books  of  Euclid, 
i  practical  math- 


ematics, and  acquired  a  fair  knowledge  of  history 
and  kindred  branches;  and  altogether  I  was  well 
prepared  for  the  duties  with  which  I  now  sought 
to  be  made  responsible. 

With  no  meagre  realization  of  my  importance, 
I  walked  in  .:  dignified  air  along  the  river  road, 
living  over  and  over  again,  in  the  strength  of 
anticipation,  many  achievements  which  I  have 
never  realized. 

"  Surely  I  will  get  the  school,"  I  soliloquized. 
"  I  have  the  inspector's  recommendation,  and  he 
assured  me  that  all  of  the  trustees  were  anxious  to 


engage  me. 


The  sun  had  scarcely  passed  the  zenith,  when  I 
entered  the  settlement  of  Winthrop  ;  and  there 
was  still  a  possibility  that  I  should  complete  my 
journey  in  time  to  dine  with  the  squire. 

The  squire  to  whom  I  refer  was  chairman  of  the 
board  of  trustees,  and  one  of  the  wealthiest  and 
most  influential  men  of -the  valley.  These  were 
facts  making  it  necessary  that  I  shoukl  lose  no 
time  in  securing  an  interview  with  him,  and  I 
turned  into  the  lane  leading  to  his  house,  with  some 
misgivings.  • 
. .   "  Good  day,  sir !  a  stranger  in  this  neighborhood, 


-rrr- 


23 


THAT  YOU  AG  MAN. 


I  take  it,"  said  a  little  man  in  homespun,  in  front 
of  his  own  castle,  his  furrowed  face  partly  hid  by 
the  broad-rimmed  straw  hat,  the  handiwork  of  his 
own  good  wife.  ' 

These  words  carried  with  them  a  cheer  and  wel- 
come which  touched  my  heart,  and  I  took  courage, 

"  Good  day,  sir !  Yes,  a  stranger.  I  am  look- 
ing for  a  school,"  I  replied. 

"  Your  name,  please  .' "  he  inquired. 

"  Jean  Clarkson,"  was  my  quick  reply ;  for  I  fan- 
cied that  name  would  add  to  my  welcome. 

"  Guy  Clarkson's  son  .? "  The  squire  asked  the 
question  earnestly,  and  looked  at  me  sharply. 

"Yes,  sir,"  I  said,  with  a  bow  of  satisfaction. 

This  brought  the  squire's  hand  out  enthusiastic- 
ally, and  I  received  a  decided  token  of  his  respect 
for  my  father. 

"  Come  in,  come  in ! "  and  he  led  the  way  into  the 
old  but  neatly  appointed  dwelling.  I  was  conducted 
to  the  presence  of  his  good  wife,  Mrs.  Jane  Bennett. 

"Jane,  this  is  Guy  Clarkson's  son,  —  James,  I 
believe  they  call  him.  He  comes  to  teach  our 
school,"  said  the  squire,  by  way  of  introducing  me 
to  his  wife. 

"  Jean,  not  James,  is  my  name,  sir,"  I  urg^d,  with 
some  timidity.  - 


(V. 

)mes[)un,  in  front 
.ce  partly  hid  by 
landiwork  of  his 

a  cheer  and  wel- 
d  I  took  courage, 
ger.  I  am  look- 
red. 

:  reply ;  for  I  f an- 
velcome. 

squire  asked  the 
me  sharply, 
if  satisfaction. 
out  enthusiastic- 
en  of  his  respect 

d  the  way  into  the 
I  was  conducted 
^rs.  Jane  Bennett, 
s  son,  —  James,  I 
nes  to  teach  our 
of  introducing  me 

sir,"  I  mg^d,  with 


T//AT  YOUNG  MAN. 


33 


"Jim!  Well,  that  is  only  ^  short  for  James," 
replied  the  squire  reprovingly. 

"Jean,  Jean  is  the  name.  Why,  father,  don't 
you  understand .'  '  remonstrated  Mrs.  Bennett. 

A  decided  noise  in  an  adjoining  room,  as  of  the 
squeaking  of  an  old-fashioned  cord  bedstead,  at- 
tracted our  attention,  and  all  eyes  were  turned  in 
one  direction.  The  sight  that  met  our  gaze  will 
not  be  effaced  from  my  memory  till  the  end  of  life. 

The  door  leading  to  what  was  so  well  known  in 
that  household  as  "  the  girl's  bet'room "  had  been 
made  ten  inches  shorter  than  tb  i  frame  or  casing, 
for  purposes  of  ventilation  ;  and  a  neat  little  curtain 
of  lace  had  been  frilled  upon  a  wire,  to  both  orna- 
ment and  blind  the  aperture. 

A  delicate  white  hand  had  pushed  aside  this 
little  curtain ;  and  the  space  revealed  thereby  — 
about  the  size  of  a  nine-by-ten  window-pane  — 
enclosed  for  a  single  moment  one  of  the  fairest, 
sweetest  faces  of  which  maiden  ever  boasted. 

The  face  came  and  went  so  quickly,  and  the 
little  curtain  returned  to  its  place  with  so  little  dis- 
play, that  all  might  have  passed  without  a  remark 
from  any  one  in  our  party ;  but  the  performance 
was  accentuated  by  another  unmerciful  squeaking 
of  the  bed. 


J 

-4 


..tiSKJlXi"^^     ..j^t^-piji.  fSriilM      I  ililfcliirflTfiillfcl 


iHtwiiui 


iJiawiMiluliiiWl^iiiiri-nMBfi^i' 


■IKlll''>HJJ    ' 


ywjW*^>ij'_^Hii  .■H.ljL.i  i.ji  I  '»  '.'W 


H 


24 


77/^7"  YOUNG  MAN. 


I     ,|M 


"Lotta,  what  is  the  matter?"  called  out  the 
anxious  and  mortified  mother  in  a  high  and  excited 
pitch  of  voice. 

But,  as  this  inquiry  brought  no  answer,  she  rose, 
and  entered  the  little  bedroom,  closing  the  door 
after  her. 

Ten  days  later,  with  the  aid  of  the  squire,  I  was 
organizing  my  school  in  the  old  red  schoolhouse  in 
Lower  Winthrop,  so  called  to  distinguish  it  from 
Upper  Winthrop,  a  continuation  of  the  same  settle- 
ment, but  farther  up  the  river. 

Excepting  the  inconvenience  of  "  boarding 
around,"  I  enjoyed  that  summer  perhaps  as  I  have 
never  enjoyed  another ;  and  when  the  term  was 
ended,  I  was  re-engaged  for  the  winter  months,  to 
the  satisfaction  of  both  scholars  and  people. 

Two  summers  and  two  winters  came  and  went ; 
but  with  the  close  of  the  last  I  terminated  my  en- 
gagement with  the  trustees  of  the  Winthrop  school, 
and  swung  out  into  a  still  more  responsible  exist- 
ence. 


.t' 


^^'ii<'pmmin.  ii'j'ijw"  mtt^jj--^ ^ -9 t^w.^'- 


'm-y-M^iv-  .ji./i,iti«.ri»>w,'y;'-'"'i»'^,w'.'i  jity^if.i*  ;i^_fe''H"^nif"'i->w.yj',  i"_^i"'iti'!t" ."-'!'■>  ',■■; 


lA'. 


THAT  YOUNG  MAN. 


n 


"  called  out  the 
I  high  and  excited 


answer,  she  rose, 
closing  the  door 

the  squire,  I  was 
ed  schoolhouse  in 
istiuguish  it  from 
)f  the  same  settle- 

e  of  "  boarding 
perhaps  as  I  have 
len  the  term  was 
winter  months,  to 
ind  people. 
5  came  and  went ; 
:erminated  my  en- 
:  Winthrop  school, 
responsible  exist- 


CH AFTER  IV. 

THE  reader  may  now  accompany  Mrs.  Bennett 
as  she  rose  from  her  chair,  and  repaired  to  the 
"girl's  bedroom,"  on  the  occasion  referred  to  in  the 
previous  chapter. 

".What  in  the  world  do  you  mean,  Lotta  >.  That 
strange  gentleman  saw  your  face  over  the  door,  and 
heard  the  fearful  squeaking  of  the  bed,"  said  the 
disconcerted  mother. 

"Who  is  he,  ma?"  asked  Lotta  in  a  subdued 
tone,  blushing  deeply. 

"  Jean  Clarkson,  the  new  teacher  who  has  come 
to  teach  our  school ;  and  what  do  you  suppose 
he  will  think  of  you,  Lotta?  I  thought  you  were 
sick.  How  could  you  climb  upon  that  foot-board 
so  as  to  look  over  that  door  ?  This  is  all  very 
imprudent,  my  child."  . 

Lotta  hid  her  face  under  the  bed-clothes,  but 
made  no  reply  until  Mrs.  Bennett  turned  to  leave 
the  room,  when  she  ventured,  — 


1 


4 


N 

■"".% 


^■^.■■w^'i^ii'i^M'tfiVtoi*''"'*'* 


26 


THAT  YOUNG  MAN. 


"  Will  he  get  the  school,  ma  ? " 

"  Why  do  you  ask  such  a  question,  Lotta  ?  You 
surely  do  not  expect  to  go  to  school  any  more,  es- 
pecially to  that  young  man,"  answered  her  mother. 

"  No,  ma,  I  do  not  expect  to  go  to  school  any 
more ;  but "  — 

"But  what,  Lotta?"  asked  her  mother  promptly. 

"Well,  I  was  just  thinking  how  he  is  probably  a 
young  man,  just  starting  out  in  life,  and  something 
made  me  feel  that  I  should  like  him  to  succeed." 

Lotta  spoke  these  words  hesitatingly,  in  some 
confusion,  and  seemed  to  be  greatly  agitated.    , 

"  Lotta,"  asked  Mrs.  Bennett,'  now  somewhat 
surprised,  "  what  led  you  to  do  so  rash  a  thing  as 
to  look  over  that  door  at  a  strange  gentleman? 
You  know  it  is  very  improper." 

"  I  cannot  tell,  ma.  Something  led  me  to  do  it, 
and  I  did  it." 

"  You  cannot  tell !  Are  you  not  in  your  right 
mind  ? "  demanded  the  anxious  mother,  who  was 
evidently  worried  with  the  strange  actions  of  her 
daughter. 

"  That  is,  ma,  I  do  not  like  to.  I  —  I  am  worse, 
perhaps.  May  I  sit  up  a  little  while?"  replied 
Lotta,  who  was  not  aware  of  what  she  was  saying. 


■""■"^'" 


A^. 


ion,  Lotta?    You 
lool  any  more,  es- 
'cred  her  mother. 
go  to  school  any 

mother  promptly, 
he  is  probably  a 
le,  and  something 
im  to  succeed." 
tatingly,  in  some 
tly  agitated.  , 
:,'  now  somewhat 
10  rash  a  thing  as 
range  gentleman? 

1  led  me  to  do  it, 

not  in  your  right 
mother,  who  was 
ge  actions  of  her 

I  —  I  am  worse, 

2  while  ?  "  replied 
.t  she  was  saying. 


T//AT  YOUNG  MAN. 


27 


"  You  are  worse,  perhaps,  and  wish  to  sit  up  a 
little  while  !  Why,  Lotta,  your  mind  is  wandering. 
You  alarm  me.  Arc  you  very  sick,  my  dear.?" 
and  Mrs.  Bennett  shook  with  fear.  She  pulled  the 
covering  from  Lotta's  face,  and  beheld  the  great 
tears  standing  in  her  eyes,  ready  to  break  over  her 
crimson  cheeks, 

"  O  Lotta,  the  fever  has  returned ! "  the  mother 
exclaimed  frantically,  and  turned  to  call  her  hus- 
band. 

•'  Wait,  ma :  the  fever  has  not  returned.  I  am 
better,  almost  well.  Let  me  get  up,  and  dress,  I 
am  restless  here." 

Mrs.  Bennett  turned  to  her  daughter,  bewildered. 
There  was  an  expression  in  her  face  which  she 
could  not  fathom  ;  but  she  kissed  the  sick  one  ten- 
derly, and  bade  her  remain  quiet  while  she  with- 
drew to  assist  the  younger  girls  in  preparing  dinner 
for  Mr.  Clarkson,  for  the  family  had  already  dined. 

1  he  afternoon  was  well-nigh  spent.  The  school 
children  were  noisily  threading  their  way  home- 
wards ;  and  I,  drawn  by  a  spell  which  I  could  not 
comprehend,  bent  my  course  in  deep  meditation 
towards  the  squire's.    ■ 


-*  '      h- 


n-T1|-;' 


I..! 


i*r 


III; 

'  lip 

t  lii! 

iil! 


mOHiH  ti^iPD'-W  IV 


28 


T//Ar  YOUNG  MAN. 


The  children  were  playing  in  the  doorway,  and 
rose  to  welcome  me  in  their  rude  manner  as  they 
had  often  done  before.  After  a  sham  wrestle  with 
the  five-year-old  boy,  and  a  teasing  attempt  to  kiss 
the  seven-year-old  girl,  I  was  invited  into  the  house 
by  Mrs.  Bennett,  whose  natural  kind-heartedness 
overcame  any  scruples  which  she  might  have 
entertained  concerning  me  as  a  fit  person  for  her 
daughter's  society. 

We  chatted  a  little  while  together;  and,  as  no 
one  else  was  there  to  share  in  the  conversation,  I 
grew  nervous,  and  asked,  — 

"  Where  is  Lotta  to-night }  " 

"  Up-stairs,  weaving  away  on  her  table-spreads," 
replied  Mrs.  Bennett,  evidently  feeling  a  satisfac- 
tion in  the  fact  that  her  daughter  could  weave  such 
difficult  pieces.  s  - 

"I  wonder  if  she  would  not  like  to  have  some 
quills  wound .'  I  have  wound  thousands  of  quills 
for  my  mother ; "  and  I  watched  the  mother's  face 
with  attention,  for  signs  of  approval  or  disapproval. 

"  You  may  go  and  see,"  she  said. 

I  thanked  her,  and  started  up  the  staircase  ;  but 
Lotta's  loom  slammed  and  banged  so  loudly  that 
she  did  not  observe  my  approach,  which  was  behind 


M. 


i».ii'iiMji.'jjmiJw 


N. 


THAT  YOUNG  MAN. 


29 


the  doorway,  and 
2  manner  as  they 
sham  wrestle  with 
g  attempt  to  kiss 
ted  into  the  house 
kind-heartedness 
she  might  have 
fit  person  for  her 

other ;  and,  as  no 
be  conversation,  I 


ler  table-spreads," 

feeling  a  satisfac- 

could  weave  such 

ike  to  have  some 
lOLisands  of  quills 
the  mother's  face 
val  or  disapproval, 
id. 

the  staircase ;  but 

jed  so  loudly  that 

which  was  behind 


her.  Standing  for  a  few  moments  in  indecision,  I 
resolved  to  venture;  then,  moving  up  notselcssly 
behind  her,  I  made  the  attempt  just  as  I  was  dis- 
covered. Lotta  protected  herself  from  my  designs, 
though  I  believe  she  regretted  it  immediately  ;  but 
her  shuttle  went  sprawling  on  the  floor. 

"There,  Mr.  Clarkson,  you  have  broken  my 
thread ! "  remonstrated  Lotta,  emphasizing  her 
words  with  a  curt  shake  of  the  head,  which  threw 
her  auburn  curls  into  a  thousand  curves  and  angles. 

"  No,  Miss  Bennett,  I  protest  I  have  not  touched 
your  thread  ;  but  I  will  pick  up  your  shuttle,  and 
as  I  can  tie  a  '  weaver's  knot,' "  I  said,  with  a 
gesture  which  she  did  not  fail  to  comprehend,  "  I 
will  mend  it." 

She  motioned  assent.  I  gave  her  the  shuttle, 
and  tied  the  thread.  The  weaving  was  resumed 
without  delay ;  but  I  managed  to  hit  her  elbow, 
and  again  the  shuttle  fell,  and  once  more  the  thread 
was  severed. 

"  O  Mr.  Clarkson,  this  is  a  very  particular  piece  ; 
and  knots  make  an  awful  effect.     Please  don't ! " 

"  Pardon  me.  Miss  Bennett ;  but  knots  have  a 
good  effect  on  some  people,  if  they  are  properly 
tied.    Yes,  I  fancy  this  is  an  important  piece.     It 


'',■,-  ;J 

I 


t 


s* 


T//AT  YOUNG  MAN. 


Ml 


is  very  beautiful.  How  can  you  weave  that  pat- 
tern, ami  produce  those  beautiful  figures  ?  What 
do  you  call  it  ? " 

«  Wellington's  army,"  said  Lotta,  blushing  deeply 
under  my  pun  over  the  knots. 

"Wellington's  army!  Think  of  it,  — a  little 
girl  away  down  here  in  Winthrop,"  weaving  damask 
for  table-spreads  after  the  pattern  of  Wellington's 
army.  Why,  if  Lord  Wellington  knew  it,  he  would 
promote  you  to  a  place  of  great  honor."  I  spoke 
this  with  considerable  flourish,  but  Lotta  was  a 
match  for  me.  Her  reply  was  less  spread-eagle, 
but  much  keener. 

"  In  the  first  place.  Lord  Wellington  must  have 
been  dead  a  good  while;  and  then,  pray  tell  me  a 
position  of  greater  honor  than  this  I  now  occupy 
at  the  loom  ; "  and  she  looked  at  me  with  an  air  of 
independence. 

•<  I  am  glad  to  find  one  lady,"  I  answered,  "who 
cannot  be  promoted.  But  do  tell  me  whom  these 
table-spreads  are  for .' " 

Lotta  blushed  redder  than  ever,  and  would  have 
resumed  her  weaving,  but  I  held  one  end  of  the 
shuttle.  We  had  met  often  before,  and  I  had  come 
to  believe  myself  hopelessly  in  love  with  her,  nor 
was  I  without  some  slight  assurance  of  her  regard. 


"^MW^'S!*^^" 


-I    IJIUI^IIIJIIBI','! 


I'K'-'ityt'"*"  '* 


*n 


AN. 

u  weave  that  pat- 
iil  figures?    What 

;ta,  bUishing  deeply 

k  of  it,  — a  little 
p;  weaving  damask 
rn  of  Wellington's 
n  knew  it,  he  would 
t  honor."  I  spoke 
but  Lotta  was  a 
i  less  spread-eagle, 

illington  must  have 

;hen,  pray  tell  me  a 

this  I  now  occupy 

It  me  with  an  air  of 

"  I  answered,  "who 
tell  me  whom  these 

iver,  and  would  have 
icld  one  end  of  the 
ifore,  and  I  had  come 
n  love  with  her,  nor 
irance  of  her  regard. 


THAT  YOUNG  MAN. 


3» 


"  Lotta,"  I  continued,  and  this  was  the  first  time 
I  had  ventured  upon  so  free  a  use  of  her  name, 
"  I  want  you  to  give  me  one  of  these  table-spreads. 
Will  you?" 

She  smiled  sweetly,  but  her  answer  was  decided. 
"  There  are  six  of  them  when  done,  and  I  mean  to 
keep  them  as  long  as  I  live." 

"  Then,  in  order  to  get  one  of  these  Wellington 
army  table-spreads,  a  fellow  will  have  to  win  the 
weaver  ? "  I  asked. 

Lotta  made  no  reply,  but  turned  her  face  from  me 
toward  the  window.  The  setting  sun  sent  his  full 
soft  rays  into  the  chamber ;  and  this  little  woman 
seated  in  her  loom  was  to  me  the  most  beautiful, 
most  interesting  picture  upon  which  my  eyes  had 
ever  feasted.  I  grew  wild  with  the  prospect,  and 
as  quick  as  lightning  stole  my  first  kiss. 

Lotta  had  not  suspected  me,  and  the  shock  was 
decided.  A  sharp,  sudden  little  scream  rent  the 
whole  chamber  in  which  the  old  loom  stood,  and 
must  have  reached  the  <-  s  of  Mrs.  Bennett  below  ; 
for  it  had  scarcely  died  when  the  maternal  voice 
floated  up  the   staircase  with  the  ringing  melody 

of,-  v^':""-"'.'^  -     -  • --'v"^^ 

"Lotta!"  •  - 


t&emisjmAAiiSA 


aiiu*i^ 


THAT  YOUNG  MAN. 

"  Well,  ma !  " 

"  Come  down :  you  have  woven  enough  for  one 
day  ; "  and  Lotta  obeyed  promptly.     I  followed,  and 
called  on  the  little  weaver,  in  the  presence  of  her 
mother,  to  bear  testimony  to  the  good  quality  of  my 
quills;    but,  as  Mrs.  Bennett  did  not  require   any 
proof  beyond  my' own  word,  Lotta  was  spared  the 
alternative  of   telling  a  story,  or  giving  mo  away ; 
for  I  never  wound  a  quill  that  evening,  no  •  ^lid  my 
charmer  weave  two  inches  during  the  wlicl-i  hour 
in  which  I  assisted  her  in  presiding  at  the  loom. 


THAT  YOUNG  MAN. 


33 


;h  for  one 
lowed,  and 
ncc  of  her 
ality  of  my 
:quirc  any 
spared  the 
mc  away ; 
no-  'lid  my 
wt.cl-J  hour 
he  loom. 


CHAPTER  V. 

TV/TY  school  had  been  dismissed  for  the  day,  and 
teacher  and  children  were  walking  rapidly 
homeward.    A  slight  shower  during  the  afternoon 
had  settled  the  dust.     The  air  was  cool  and  pleas- 
ant. 

"  Good-evening,"  said  a  gentlemen,  who  had  rap- 
idly driven  up  behind  me.  "  Will  you  jump  in,  and 
take  a  short  drive,  by  way  of  recreation  ?  I  have 
the  handsomest  three-minute  animal  here  that  ever 
raised  the  dust ;  just  the  blood  for  such  a  man  as 
yourself." 

I  was  soon  enjoying  the  drive  with  him. 

"What  do  you  think  of  her.?  "  said  Mr.  Headly, 
holding  the  reins  in  a  jockey  attitude. 

"She  is  both  fleet  and  beautiful;  but  are  you 
not  afraid  to  drive  so  fast  >  "  I  responded  in  alarm. 

"She  is  true  as  steel,"  said  Headly;  and,  to 
demonstrate  his  assertion,  he  shouted  at  the  top  of 
his  voice,  "Whoa!" 


34 


THAT  YOUNG  MAN. 


And  the  well-trained  little  animal  came  to  such 
a  sudden  halt,  that  wc  were  both  thrown  against 
the  dashboard. 

"  You  have  her  under  excellent  control ;  and  I 
sec  you  arc  a  regular  horseman,"  was  my  observa- 
tion, as  wc  reseated  ourselves,  the  beast  resuming 
her  speed,  but  at  a  less  rapid  pace. 

Mr.  Headly  was  a  genius  in  his  way,  a  sort  of 
Jack-of-all-trades.  At  the  time  of  which  I  write, 
it  was  difficult  to  decide  whether  he  was  i  ost  farm- 
er, merchant,  speculator,  horse-trader,  or  i, olitician. 
The  more  respectable  and  settled  portions  of  the 
community  had  come  to  avoid  him  as  much  as  pos- 
sible. They  did  not  speak  openly  against  him  ;  but 
there  was  a  sort  of  mutual  understanding  that  he 
was  the  greatest  liar,  the  most  unscrupulous  trick- 
ster, in  the  whole  county. 

I  bethought  myself  that  the  company  of  this 
man  was  likely  to  injure  my  good  name ;  and  I 

said, — 

"  Headly,  drive  slower,  or  let  me  but.    There  is 

no  pleasure  in  such  speed." 

He  drew  the  animal  into  a  reasonable  gait,  and 
turned  his  face  towards  me  with  a  friendly  smile, 
such  as  only  a  man  can  smile  for  business  pur- 
poses 


i.s--  >-  ?  ->-i-^«fetervr,< 


nic  to  such 
;)\vn  against 


itrol ;  and  I 
my  obscrva- 
st  resuming 

ly,  a  sort  of 
lich  I  write, 
s  nost  farm- 
er j.olitician. 
rlions  of  the 
-nuch  as  pos- 
ist  him  ;  but 
cling  that  he 
pulous  trick- 

pany  of  this 
lamc ;  and  I 

at.    There  is 

ible  gait,  and 
riendly  smile, 
business  pur- 


TllAT  YOUNG  MAN. 


35 


"  Mr.  Clarkson,  I  bought  this  marc  last  week  at 
a  great  bargain.  She  is  worth  two  hundred  dol- 
lars, if  she  is  worth  a  cent.  Now,  do  you  know,  I 
am  going  to  sell  you  this  marc." 

"That  is  right,  Mr.  Ilcadly:  when  you  arc  going 
to  sell  mc,  tell  me  frankly  on  the  start,  and  I  shall 
be  on  my  guard." 

"Sell  you  the  mare,  I  mean,"  and  he  laughed 
heartily. 

"  I  could  not  buy  enough  hairs  from  her  tail  for 
a  respectable  set  of  fiddle-strings,"  I  said,  not  de- 
p*  rting  in  the  least  from  the  truth. 

"  Yes,  you  can.  Jean,"  giving  mc  a  friendly  pelt 
on  the  shoulder.  "  I'll  tell  you  how  you  can  do  it. 
In  the  first  place,  would  you  not  like  to  own  her? 
Is  she  not  your  fancy } ' 

"  That  I  would,  and  that  she  is  !  "  and  I  was 
sincere  in  this  remark. 

"  Then  I  will  sell  her  to  you  for  one  hundred 
dollars."  Hcadly  was  now  in  his  element.  I  had 
never  made  a  trade  beyond  the  swapping  of  a  cylin- 
der escapement  watch  in  my  life,  and  I  afforded 
him  pliable  material  for  his  skilful  deception. 

"But  I  have  not  one  hundred  cents  in  the 
world;"  and  my  answer  was  both* earnest  and 
honest. 


•■ir^-Ml^^,  iiS 


36 


THAT  YOUNG  MAN. 


"  What  of  that  ?  Do  you  suppose  I  am  afraid  to 
trust  you  ?  Your  note  for  six  months  at  legal  inter- 
est will  buy  her ;  and  you  may  have  possession  to- 
night." Headly's  words  were  emphasized  as  only 
a  professional  horse-trader  can. 

I  remonstrated  that  going  in  debt  was  a  bad 
thing.  My  father  had  always  avoided  it ;  and  as  I 
did  not  need  the  animal,  excepting  for  pleasure,  it 
would  be  better  to  wait  until  I  could  pay  cash  on 
delivery.  I  thanked  him  for  his  confidence  in  my 
integrity,  but  declined  the  offer. 

He  now  took  me  through  one  of  his  silver- 
tongued  discourses  on  my  real  needs  of  a  horse. 
My  standing  in  the  neighborhood  required  it.  I 
had  become  popular  with  the  squire.  Everybody 
knew  I  was  courting  his  daughter ;  and  certainly  it 
must  be  humiliating  to  both  Lotta  and  myself,  that 
all  our  pleasant  drives  must  be  after  a  borrowed 
horse. 

"  Yes,"  he  concluded,  "  buy  her.  It  will  be  the 
master-stroke  of  your-  life.  It  will  give  you  caste. 
Indeed,  you  will  command  a  higher  salary  ;  and  you 
may  have  the  use  of  my  pasture  free  for  the  rest  of 
the  season,  and  my  harness  and  buggy  at  your 
pleasure."     * 


■  am  afraid  to 
at  legal  inter- 
lossession  to- 
sized  as  only 

it  was  a  bad 
it ;  and  as  I 

or  pleasure,  it 
pay  cash  on 

idence  in  my 

)£  his  silver- 
s  of  a  horse, 
equired  it.  I 
.  Everybody 
id  certainly  it 
d  myself,  that 
:r  a  borrowed 

It  will  be  the 
;ive  you  caste, 
lary ;  and  you 
[or  the  rest  of 
uggy  at  your 


THAT  -YOUNG  MAN. 


Sf 


An  hour  later  I  signed  my  first  promissory  note. 
The  amount  was  one  hundred  dollars,  but  it  was 
large  enough  to  send  a  vein  of  sorrow  through  my 
whole  life  ;  ncr  indeed,  as  I  write  these  lines,  nearly 
twelve  years  later,  has  the  cloud  that  arose  in  Ihe 
form  of  that  first  promissory  note,  no  larger  than  a 
man's  hand,  but  which  spread  in  lowering  gloom 
until  it  darkened  all  the  sky  of  two  lives,  been  fully 
dispelled. 

Young  man,  think  long  and  carefully  before  you 
sign  your  first  promissory  note.  It  will  exert  an 
influence  over  your  whole  life,  and  perchance  bring 
you  in  sorrow  to  an  early  grave.  Avoid  those  who 
have  something  to  sell. 

I  found  my  new  purchase  something  of  a  pet, 
but  more  of  a  responsibility  than  a  pleasure  ;  but  I 
determined  to  make  the  best  of  it. 

The  days  came  and  went  for  more  than  a  week ; 
and  I  had  not,  during  that  time,  made  my  little 
animal  serve  the  purpose  for  which,  more  than  for 
any  other,  I  had  bought  her.  But  the  hour  of  my 
triumph,  if  triumph  indeed  there  could  be  in  the 
arrangement,  came  at  last. 

"  How  do  you  like  my  horse,  Lotta .' "  I  asked, 
as  we  drove  along  the  river  road  towards  the  Lodge 
Hall.  *  ' 


38 


THAT  YOUNG  MAN. 


Now,  Lotta  knew  what  I  did  not;  viz.,  that 
three-quarters  of  the  neighborhood  had  been  talk- 
ing in  high  ridicule  of  me  because  of  my  foolish 
bargain,  having  set  it  down  as  Headly's  last  and 
most  wicked  triumph. 

"  Why  did  you  buy  a  horse,  Jean  }" 

Lotta  was  a  little  sad,  and,  I  declare,  her  words 
sent  a  cold  chill  through  and  through  me ;  for  I 
could  reply  with  no  sane  reason,  and  did  not  there- 
fore venture  to  rgply  at  all.      .  • 

"  Did  you  Jieed  a  horse,  Jean  ? " 

This  question  was  colder  than  a  river  bath,  and 
made  happiness  for  me  that  evening  one  of  the 
impossibilities.    . 

•  We  did  not  speak  of  the  animal  again  that  night, 
and  talked  but  little  on  any  subject.  The  debate 
in  the  Lodge,  in  which  I  always  took  a  leading  part, 
was  unusually  hot ;  nd  I  lost  my  temper  twice,  at 
which  Lotta  must  have  been  deeply  mortified. 
There  was  a  mare  in  every  thought,  until  it  be- 
came a  perfect  nightmare. 

The  next  day  I  heard  of  a  man  who  was  passing 
through  the  neighborhood,  and  whose  destination 
was  not  far  from  my  father's  house.  I  lost  no  time 
in  seeing  him,  and  for  the  small  sum  of  one  dollar, 


Tk;eJiflia.-»{HtBtfi&»»« 


THAT  YOUNG  MAN. 


39 


viz.,  that 
been  talk- 
my  foolish 
s  last  and 


her  words 
me ;  for  I 
not  there- 


r  bath,  and 
one  of  the 

that  night. 
The  debate 
lading  part, 
er  twice,  at 
mortified, 
until  it  be- 

vas  passing 

destination 

lost  no  time 

one  dollar, 


which  I  borrowed  from  the  squire,  engaged  him  to 
lead  behind  his  carriage,  and  deliver  to  my  father, 
that  mare  of  mine.     With  the  same  gentleman  I 


sent  the  following  letter ; 


I  WiNTHROP,   Aug.   lO,   1866. 

Dear  Father,  —  I  send  you  by  Mr.  Stevens  a  valuable 
mare.  I  called  her  Lotta  when  I  first  got  her,  but  have  since 
changed  her  name  to  Nancy.  She  is  very  fast,  but  steady, 
and  will  work  any  way  you  choose  to  harness  her.  Take  her 
artd  keep  her.  I  wouldn't  own  a  horse  as  a  gift.  Work 
her  as  hard  as  you  like,  drive  her  as  long  and  as  fast  as 
you  like,  but  ask  no  questions.    The  school  goes  well. 

Your  affectionate  son,  jEANi 

A  few  evenings  later  I  sat  with  the  squire's 
pleasant  family  at  his  well-spread  evening  board, 
and  naturally  enough  the  conversation  turned  upon 
my  purchase. 

"And  so  you've  bought  a  horse,  Jean,"  observed 
Squire  Bennett ;  which  brought  the  color  to  Lot- 
ta's  cheeks.  '  - 

"  I  think  there  is  some  mistake,  squire.  I  am 
not  the  happy  possessor  of  such  a  treasure,"  I 
answered  carelessly. 

The  Bennett  family  began  a  little  comedy  per- 
formance of  mutual  glances  and  suppressed  laugh- 


40  THAT  YOUNG  MAN. 

ing ;  but  Lotta  looked  at  me  in  all  the  radiance  of 
hope. 

"Own  up,  Clarkson,  own  up.  You've  been 
victimized.  Own  up  like  a  man ! "  retorted  the 
squire's  eldest  son.  And  now  all  but  Lotta  joined 
in  a  pleasant  laugh  at  my  expense. 

"  Own  up  to  what } "  I  demanded  in  a  decided 
tone,  which  brought  the  laughing  suddenly  to  an 
end. 

Lotta  made  an  excuse  to  go  for  the  teapot,  but 
left  the  kitchen-door  ajar,  and  listened  attentively 
not  three  inches  from  it. 

Now  was  my  time.  Things  had  taken  a  serious 
turn.  I  had  spoken  in  a  clear,  commanding  tone, 
and  would  further  assert  my  manhood  at  once. 

"  Do  you  suppose  I  am  fool  enough  to  be  swin- 
dled by  a  horse-jockey  ?  The  animal  I  purchased 
from  Headly  was  raised  on  a  farm  less  than  three 
miles  from  my  father's.  Shf^  came  into  his  posses- 
sion through  a  sheriff's  sale,  I  believe.  A  knowl- 
edge of  this  came  to  my  father;  and  he  sent  me 
a  letter  requesting  me  to  get  her  for  him,  but  not 
to  exceed  a  certaih  price.  I  got  her  twenty-five 
dollars  less  than  his  maximum,  and  shall  make  that 
sum  on  the  transaction.     I  sent  her  down  to  fa- 


radiance  of 

ou've  been 
etorted  the 
^otta  joined 

1  a  decided 


THAT  YOUNG  MAN. 


41 


lenly  to  an 

:  teapot,  but 

attentively 

en  a  serious 

nding  tone, 

it  once. 

to  be  swin- 

> 

I  purchased 

than  three 

* 

his  posses- 

A  knowl- 

he  sent  me 

lira,  but  not 

twenty-five 

1  make  that 

lown  to  fa- 

, 

ther's  by  a  Mr.  Stevens,  who  was  passing  through 
this  place  three  days  ago." 

This  little  speech  had  the  desired  effect,  and 
Clarkson  stock  went  up  thirty  per  cent  in  two 
minutes  with  the  whole  family.  Lotta  returned 
feeling  a  hundred  pounds  lighter.  A  burden  had 
fallen  from  her  heart,  and  a  smile  of  glad  relief 
made  her  face  radiant. 

Fall  had  come.  There  were  a  few  days  of  vaca- 
tion between  the  summer  and  winter  terms,  and 
the  former  was  to  terminate  in  a  few  days. 

One  evening,  just  before  the  term  closed,  Headly 
called,  and,  in  an  undertone,  informed  me  that  he 
was  greatly  in  need  of  funds,  and  that,  if  I  would 
give  him  an  order  on  the  trustees  for  the  retirement 
of  the  note,  he  would  discount  ten  dollars. 

Could  I  refuse  to  discount  my  own  note  }  Yes, 
I  would.  Indeed,  I  must.  I  had  already  drawn 
nearly  or  quite  all  my  salary  ;  but  my  tongue  never 
failed  for  apt  excuses,  the  principal  of  which  on  this 
occasion  was  that  I  would  not  suffer  the  trustees 
to  know  I  had  gone  into  debt. 

He  withdrew,  excusing  himself  a  thousand  times, 
and  assuring  me  that  it  was  only  because  he  was 
in  a  tight  place. 


4a 


THAT  YOUNG  MAN, 


However,  the  occasion  had  a  decided  effect  upon 
my  actions ;  for  I  rcaHzed,  perhaps  for  the  first 
time,  that  paying  a  note  was  not  as  easy  a  thing  as 
drawing  it.  I  knew  it  would  fall  due  in  the  middle 
of  my  winter  term,  and  throw  me  into  confusion. 
Then  and  there  I  decided  to  spend  my  vacation  in 
raising  that  hundrd  dollais,  so  as  to  retire  my 
note. 

As  soon  as  the  term  was  ended  I  started  for 
Amherstburg,  the  county-seat,  some  forty  or  fifty 
miles  distant,  calling  at  home  en  route,  which  was 
some  twenty  miles  out  of  my  way,  I  made  the 
journey  in  the  old-fashioned  mail-coaches,  walking 
such  distances  as  were  necessary  to  make  the 
connections. 

On  reaching  home,  I  found  my  father  in  the 
field,  ploughing  behind  a  span.  Nancy  was  in  the 
furrow,  and  seemed  to  have  come  down  to  hard 
work  with  a  good  grace. 

"  How  do  you  like  Nancy } "  I  inquired,  after  my 
father  had  asked  a  few  questions  about  my  welfare, 
and  answered  as  many  more  concerning  home. 

"She  works  well;  but  how  did  you  come  by 
her  ?  She  has  been  a  mystery  to  the  people  for 
miles  around,  these  three  months,"  asked  my  father 
in  an  inquiring  tone. 


Z'ZL  ' 


effect  upon 

)r  the  first 

I  a  thing  as 

the  middle 

confusion, 
vacation  in 

retire   my 

started  for 

■ty  or  fifty 

which  was 

made  the 

es,  wallcing 

make   the 

!icr  in  the 
vas  in  the 
/n  to  hard 

d,  after  my 
ny  welfare, 
home. 
I  come  by 
people  for 
i  my  father 


THAT  YOU  AG  MAN. 


43 


We  sat  down  together  on  the  beam  of  the 
plough,  and  I  made  a  clean  breast  of  it. 

"  You  can  put  my  name  on  the  note,"  he  said ; 
"  but  let  this  be  a  lesson  to  you  for  life." 

Two  weeks  later,  after  a  successful  trip  to  Am- 
herstburg,  I  returned  to  Winthrop,  where  I  retired 
my  note,  scon  ing  to  pay  less  than  the  full  amount 
and  the  interest  down  to  the  day  of  retirement. 
But  the  debt  was  '.y  uo  means  paid.  I  had  made 
a  simple  transfer  of  my  liability  from  one  man  -and 
one  locality  to  another;  but  I  had  involved  my 
father  with  me,  and  placed  a  rolling  stone  in  the 
foundation  of  my  financial  ]ife  which  gave  way  in 
disaster  many  a  time  afterwards,  as  the  following 
will  plainly  show. 


1 
\ 


')iMi>i..ija«ii!.iiwwit'j*.wi^w  ]in"im.m 


44 


THAT  YOUNG  MAN, 


CHAPTER  VI. 


'TnWO  years  had  passed  since  the  events  re- 
■*■  corded  in  the  previous  chapter  transpired. 
School-teaching  had  been  laid  aside,  and  its  dull 
routine  exchanged  for  the  stern  realities  of  mercan- 
tile business ;  and  now  my  inexperienced  life  was 
about  to  break  down  under  its  first  commercial  crisis. 

Lotta  and  I  had  joined  hearts  and  hands  for  life, 
and  were  snugly  settled  in  a  cosey  little  home 
in  Lower  Winthrop,  nearly  opposite  the  s<^ire's. 
She  had  made  our  home  a  little  paradise  with  the 
ample  dowry  so  generously  settled  upon  her  by 
the  squire,  and  seemed  to  look  into  the  future  with 
the  most  hopeful  anticipations. 

I  had  set  out  in  mercantile  life  with  every  sail 
unfurled.  Immense  wealth  seemed  within  easy 
grasp ;  and  I  could  look  forward  at  the  close  of  my 
nineteenth  year,  while  yet  only  six  months  a  hus- 
band, to  a  near  future  full  of  affluence  and  fame. 


events  re- 
■  transpired, 
ind  its  dull 
s  of  mercan- 
:ed  life  was 
icrcial  crisis, 
inds  for  life, 
little  home 
the  s<^ire's. 
ise  with  the 
ipon  her  by 
future  with 

h  every  sail 
within  easy 
close  of  my 
mths  a  hus- 
ind  fame. 


THAT  YOUNG  MAN. 


45 


Winthrop  lay  to  the  north  of  Hanover,  —  the 
metropolis  of  that  region,  and  a  seaport  city  of 
considerable  commercial  renown,  —  about  a  hun- 
dred and  twenty  miles.  A  railroad  extended  from 
Hanover  to  within  thirty  miles  of  Winthrop,  which 
has  since  been  carried  through  that  settlement  and 
hundreds  of  miles  beyond  it. 

The  resources  of  Winthrop  and  the  adjoining 
settlements  consisted  in  live  stock,  poultry,  and  the 
cereals  indigenous  to  an  extremely  northern  tem- 
perate zone;  and  Hanover  afforded  a  ready  and 
profitable  market  for  all  these. 

For  six  months  my  ambition  had  found  a  satis- 
.  factory  portion  in  such  pursuits  as  collecting  from 
the  farmers  of  Winthrop  and  vicinity  fat  cattle  of 
all  kinds,  marketable  sheep  and  lambs  in  their  sea- 
son, and  in  the  fall  months  vast  quantities  of  geese, 
turkeys,  chickens,  butter,  cheese,  &c.  Homespun 
fabrics,  such  as  were  woven  by  the  women  of  that 
section,  were  also  a  salable  article  of  merchandise. 

With  several  strong  wagons  heavily  laden  with 
poultry,  m'utton,  butter,  &c.,  and  with  a  large  drove 
of  fat  cattle  and  sheep,.!  had  frequently  threaded 
my  way  over  the  little  mountains  that  lay' at  a 
moderate  elevation  between    Winthrop   and    the 


46 


THAT  YOUNG  MAN. 


northern  terminus  of  the  railroad  upon  which  the 
journey  to  Hanover  was  completed. 

But  alas  !  the  even  tenor  of  this  pursuit  was  now 
about  to  suffer  a  fearful  spasm.  A  crash  was  at 
hand.  With  mc  the  second  and  third  days  of 
September,  A.D.  1868,  were  both  black  Fridays, 
though  I  believe  neither  of  them  came  on  that  day 
of  the  week ;  but  black  Fridays  will  come  on  any 
day  in  the  week  to  reckless  speculation. 

I  had  reached  Hanover  0;  the  morning  of  the 
.2d,  with  a  heavy  stock,  among  which  were  two 
hundred  sheep  and  thirty  head  of  '  fine  cattle. 
With  ^hcse  and  other  supplies  I  made  a  formidable 
appearance  at  the  stock-yards,  and  drew  around 
me  the  wily  butchers,  who  were  of  all  men  in  that 
old  citadel  city  the  most  unscrupulous  knaves. 

In  a  few  moments  I  had  struck  a  bargain  with  a 
Mr.  Sullivan,  for  the  sale  of  my  sheep.  He  had 
made  a  careful  examination,  with  the  aid  of  two 
of  his  faithful  assistants,  and  had  offered  ten 
shillings  or  two  dollars  a  head,  against  my  twelve 
and  sixpence  asked.  Wc  agreed  to  split  the  differ- 
ence,  —  a  sort  of  compromise  common  at  the  yards, 
—  and  the  bargain  was  concluded  at  eleven  and 
thrtepeftce,  or  two  dollars  and  a  quarter,  a  head. 


n  which  the 

iuit  was  now 
rash  was  at 
ird  days  of 
Lck  Fridays, 
on  that  day 
:ome  on  any 
1. 

'ring  of  the 
h  were  two 

fine  cattle. 
a  formidable 
irew  around 
men  in  that 
knaves, 
irgain  with  a 
;p.  He  had 
:  aid  of  two 

offered  ten 
;t  my  twelve 
lit  the  differ- 
at  the  yards, 
:  eleven  and 
:r,  a  head. 


THAT  YOUNG  MAN. 


47 


"  Fork  over  the  cash,  and  take  them ! "  J  said, 
agreeing  to  his  proposal. 

"  I  have  but  one  hundred  dollars  with  me ;  but 
you  can  have  the  balance  at  my  office,  whenever 
you  call."  His  answer  was  emphasized  by  the 
presentation  of  the  one  hundred  dollars  in  a  sort  of 
matter-of-course  manner,  and  I  accepted  it;  but 
made  some  inquiries  of  his  brother  butchers  con- 
cerning his  financial  standing,  before  the  gate  to 
the  yard  in  wliich  the  sheep  were  secured,  was 
unlocked.  Each  of  my  informants  vouched  for  his 
honor  and  his  purse. 

Two  hours  later  I  had  bargained  for  the  last  ox 
ii>  the  stall,  and  was  on  my  way  up  town.  Having 
made  the  necess.  y  arrangements  in  the  city-mar- 
kets for  the  sale  of  my  lighter  stock,  I  started  out, 
at  one  o'clock,  to  look  for  my  debtors. 

Out  of  one  thousand  dollars  due,  I  succeeded  in 
collecting  but  forty-eight  during  the  afternoon; 
and,  up  to  eight  o'clock  in  the  evening,  Sullivan 
had  not  put  in  an  appearance  at  his  market-place, 
and  the  man  in  charge  gave  me  to  understand  that 
his  master  was  probably  on  his  usual  Wednesday 
night  drunk. 
Fifteen   minutes  later  I  found   him   in  a  low 


I 


^S     •  THAT  YOUNG  MAN. 

brothel,  and  demanded,  in  a  somewhat  excited 
voice,  the  payment  of  my  claim.  He  repudiated 
the  whole  matter,  declared  I  was  an  impostor,  and, 
with  the  aid  of  his  drunken  comrades,  gave  me 
accelerating  assistance  through  the  street  door. 

I  escaped  with  no  other  damage  than  a  wrecked 
paper  collar,  a  torn  vest,  and  a  bruised  finger,  and 
walked  away  determined  to  lay  for  him  at  his  office 
the  next  morning,  which  I  did  ;  but  he  protested 
against  my  demands,  and  offered  to  bring  forward 
ten  of  the. most  respectable  butchers  in  Hanover 
to  prove  that  7  had  sold  him  the  sheep  on  three 
months  time. 

A  lawyer  took  ten  shillings  for  advice,  but  gave 
me  no  encouraging  counsel  in  return,  and  only  the 
information  that  I  was  victimized,  and  would  prob- 
ably gain  little  and  spend  much  iit  any  process  of 
law. 

The  others  put  me  of^  in  one  way  and  another, 
but  had  more  regard  for  my  feelings. 

By  noon  on  Thursday  I  was  in  the  throes  of 
my  blackest  "  black  Friday."  With  two  hundred 
dollars  in  my  pocket,  and  with  no  possibility  of 
swelling  that  sum  to  any  considerable  amount  by 
further  collections,  I  had  come  to  a  painful  realiza- 
tion of  my  situation. 


THAT  YOUNG  MAN. 


49 


rhat  excited 
;  repudiated 
ipostor,  and, 
es,  gave  mc 
ect  door, 
n  a  wrecked 
i  finger,  and 
1  at  his  office 
he  protested 
)ring  forward 
in  Hanover 
jep  on  three 

ace,  but  gave 
and  only  the 
1  would  prob- 
ny  process  of 

and  another, 

:he  throes  of 
two  hundred 
possibility  of 
le  amount  by 
lainful  realiza- 


Twelve  hundred  dollars  would  be  insufficient  to 
satisfy  the  immediate  demands  which  would  meet 
me  on  my  return  to  Winthrop.  One  or  twr,  per- 
sons whom  I  had  put  off  on  former  occasii)ns  held 
old  claims  which  would  swell  that  amount  to  fifteen 
hundred  dollars. 

I  walked  out  of  the  busy  streets,  and  away  on  the 
'   hill  behind  the  citadel,  where  I  might  worry  alone 
in  quiet  meditation  over  the  ruin  into  which  I  had 
fallen. 

With  careful  scrutiny  I  followed  retrospectively 
each  step  of  r.^  co..imercial  history,  until  I  came 
to  the  false  foundation  stone,  —  my  first  promissory 
note-  for  one  hundred  dollars  given  to  Headly  at 
Winthrop  nearly  two  years  and  a  half  before. 

But  I  was  not  the  man  to  seek  vengeance  on 
Headly,  or  to  contrive  any  punishment  for  Sullivan, 
whose  base  intrigue  on  the  previous  day  was  more 
than  a  match  for  Headly's  worst  designs. 

I  laid  the  fault  all  at  my  own  door,  tried  to 
measure  the  extent  of  my  ruin,  and  only  for  the 
thought  of  Lotta  I  could  have  borne  all  in  silent 
fortitude. 

For  a  moment  a  desire  possessed  me,  to  flee  to 
parts  unknown.  Then  the  remembrance  of  Lotta 
brought  me  to  soberness. 


ii 


ii 


so 


THAT  YOUNG  MAN. 


"  I  will  go  back,  and  face  the  worst,"  I  said,  in  an 
audible  tone,  and  walked  rapidly  towards  my  hotel. 

Saturday  evening,  with  a  heavy  heart,  I  started 
from  the  s!  lall  town  at  the  northern  terminus  of 
the  railroad  to  make  the  journey  over  the  little 
mountains  to  Winthrop  and  to  Lotta. 

With  two  able  horses,  and  a  strong  but  light 
buggy,  my  progress  was  rapid. 

Not  a  star  relieved  the  blackness  of  the  night. 
Occasional  mutterings  of  approaching  thunder 
gave  a  solemnity  to  my  sadness,  and  frequent 
flashes  of  lightning  revealed  the  gloomy  prospect 
of  the  mountain  way. 

The  mutterings  soon  became  decided  peals,  and 
the  lightning-flashes  grew  angular  in  fierce  and 
sharp  display,  until  with  the  descending  torrents 
the  night  was  as  some  dark,  angry  corner  of  regions 
forever  cast  away,  where  God  pours  out  his  wrath 
in  omnipotent  fury. 

The  horses,  blinded  by  the  rain,  stunned  by  the 
fearful  revealings  of  the  forked  lightnings,  and 
maddened  by  the  sharp,  quick,  heavy  peals  of  thun- 
der, plunged  from  ditch  to  ditch,  in  wild  affright. 

From  fear  and  trembling  this  awful  hour  gradu- 
ated my  feelings  into  heroic  courage ;  and  in  the 


THAT  YOUNG  MAN. 


'  I  said,  in  an 
rds  my  hotel, 
art,  I  started 
terminus  of 
ver  the  little 

mg  but  light 

of  the  night, 
ling    thunder 


S* 


and  frequent 

omy  prospect 

,  ■■  -  - 

ed  peals,  and 

n  fierce  and 

Jing  torrents 

ner  of  regions 

^- 

3Ut  his  wrath 

unned  by  the 

jhtnings,  and 

peals  of  thun- 

ild  affright. 

1  hour  gradu- 

;  and  in  the 

midst  of  the  crashing  storm  I  prayed,  not  in  fear, 
not  for  the  calming  of  the  tempest,  —  for  I  had 
troubles  that  would  live  after  the  storm  would 
subside,  —  but  I  prayed, — 

"  God  deliver  me  from  this  snare  into  which  I 
have  so  recklessly  fallen ! " 

In  those  dark  hours,  alone  with  God  and  his 
lightning,  I  resolved  on  a  bold  and  fearful  course 
of  action.  My  faith  could  see  ultimate  victory ; 
and  I  nerved  my  courage  to  bear  the  temporary 
shame  that  would  result. 


'  •%',.■.' If t'lyt 


Sa 


r^AT  YOUNG  MAN. 


CHAPTER  VII. 


•'  I  ^HE  gray  morning  light  had  only  thrown  its 
-■■  first  dim  uncertain  streaks  in  the  eastern 
horizon,  when  I  drove  up  to  my  little  home  in 
Winthrop. 

Lotta  met  me  at  the  door,  partly  dressed,  for  she 
had  been  awakened  by  the  approach  of  my  car- 
riage. 

"Why,  Jean,  you  look  like  a  fright!  What  is 
the  matter?"  and  Lotta  stood  back  from  me  in 
alarm. 

"There  is  trouble,  Lotta,  trouble!"  and  I  led 
her  to  the  sleeping-room  from  whence  she  had 
come. 

"  Lotta,  be  firm.  Listen  carefully.  Weigh  the 
matter  well :  you  must  choose  between  two  things, 
either  of  which  are  very  painful,  and  you  must 
decide  in  half  an  hour." 

She  remained  speechless,  and  looked  at  me  in 


THAT  YOUNG  MAN. 


^Z 


r  thrown  its 
the  eastern 
;le  home  in 

ssed,  for  she 
of  my  car- 

:!  What  is 
from  me  in 

'  and  I  led 
ce  she  had 

Weigh  the 

two  things, 

i  you  must 

:d  at  me  in 


her  most  serene  composure.  I  gave  her  a  brief 
but  clear  account  of  my  affairs,  and  concluded  with 
the  following  cruel  alternative  :  — 

"  I  am  resolved  to  leave  in  half  an  hour  for  Bos- 
ton, and  there  is  no  power  in  the  world  strong 
enough  to  change  my  mind.  I  have  decided.  Do 
you  know  what  that  means  ?  You  have  your  choice 
of  coming  with  me,  or  remaining  here." 

"  You  have  decided  ;  and  what  would  you  have 
me  do,  —  go  with  you,  or  stay  here  ? "  she  asked, 
restraining  her  emotions. 

"  I  would  have  you  come  with  me ;  but,  above 
all,  do  as  you  wish,"  was  my  reply. 

•'  Then,"  she  said,  "  I  will  go  with  you  at  any 
,.?.:•,    But  give  me  time  to  go  and  see  ma  and  pa, 
.„ta  bid  them  good-by." 

"  That  will  never  do.  They  must  know  nothing 
of  it,  for  a  knowledge  of  such  a  thing  would  com- 
promise them.    Don't  you  see  ?  " 

"  I  see,  I  see ! "  she  answered  in  tears,  wringing 
her  hands  from  anguish. 

"  We  can  pay  all,  and  return  in  one  year,"  I  said, 
hoping  to  strengthen  her  sinking  heart. 

"  But  are  you  not  going  to  leave  some  explana- 
tion behind  us  ?    What  are  folks  to  think  1 "  she 


iliii' 


I 


54 


THAT  YOUNG  MAN. 


inquired,  drying  her  tears,  and  bracing  up  under 
her  sorrow. 

"  We  will  send  a  short  letter  to  '  The  Amherst- 
burg  Gazette,'  from  Monctown.  It  will  reach  its 
destination  about  the  same  time  we  cross  the  line. 
In  that  letter  I  will  explain  the  cause  of  my  failure, 
confess  that  I  could  not  face  my  creditors  empty- 
handed,  and  promise  to  return  and  pay  in  full  in 
less  than  two  years,"  I  answered  rapidly. 

"  How  do  you  know  they  will  publish  the  letter, 
Jean  t  "  inquired  Lotta,  now  half  in  harmony  with 
my  plan. 

"  They  are  fond  of  such  news,  Lotta.  They  are 
sure  to  publish  it."  • 

Lotta  saw  the  point ;  and  once  more  the  great 
tears  flooded  her  eyes,  as  she  thought  of  the "  scan- 
dalous talk  people  wouM  make. 

In  a  few  moments  more  a  single  trunk  was 
packed  with  some  of  the  more  staple  necessities  in 
the  way  of  clothing.  This  was  placed  carefully 
under  the  scat,  so  as  not  to  attract  attention,  the 
boot  of  the  carriage  pulled  closely  over  it ;  then, 
after  a  hurried  lunch,  Lotta  kissed  the  kitten  good- 
by ;  and,  with  one  wild  look  round  the  room,  we 
closed  *he  door  after  us  in  sad  and  silent  departure. 


THAT  YOUNG  MAN. 


SI 


%  up  under 

e  Amherst- 
11  reach  its 
ss  the  line, 
my  failure, 
tors  empty- 
y  in  full  in 

the  letter, 
rmony  with 

They  are 

2  the  great 
t  the  scan- 
trunk  was 
cessities  in 
i  carefully 
:ention,  the 
r  it;  then, 
itten  good- 
room,  we 
departure. 


and  drove  quietly  away,  the  sabbath  morning  light 
breaking  languidly  from  the  eastern  sky. 

At  Monctown  I  sold  my  famishing  horses. 
They  had  completed  a  jc  jrney  of  one  hundred  and 
fifty  miles  in  forty-eight  hours,  and  were  not  in  a 
condition  to  demand  a  high  price.  - 

We  spent  our  first  night  in  Boston  at  a  siriall 
hotel  in  Haymarket  Square.  Lotta  had  never  been 
in  a  city  before,  and  she  had  many  misgivings  con- 
cerning the  house.  Morning  came  ;  breakfast  was 
over,  and  we  returned  to  our  little  room  for  a  con- 
sultation. 

Life  was  now,  in  a  certain  sense,  all  before  us. 
We  were  starting  over  again,  and  would  profit  by 
the  past.  It  was  agreed  that  Lotta's  advice  should 
be  heeded  more  in  the  future  than  it  had  been. 
This  concession  was  made  as  a  partial  return  for 
her  promise  that  she  would  bury  her  sorrows,  cheer 
up,  and  look  hopefully  ahead. 

"  Now,  Jean,  let  me  tell  you  what  to  do,"  began 
Lotta.  "  Don't  go  headlong  into  business,  but  get 
a  situation,  for  a  time,  until  you  have  become  ac- 
quainted with  the  city.  Let  us  go  to  a  respectable 
but  cheap  boarding-house  somewhere,  in  a  private 
family  if  possible,  and  I  will  try  to  get  into  a  store. 


S6 


THAT  YOUNG  MAN. 


li 


You  must  let  me  work  too,  Jean ;  and  both  togeth- 
er, we  will  perhaps  cam  enough  in  time  to  go 
home  and  pay  our  debts." 

"  Part  of  your  suggestion  I  will  follow,  Lotta," 
I  replied ;  "  but  you  are  not  to  go  out  to  work. 
You  shall  go  home  first.  What  would  the  squire 
say  if  he  heard  such  a  thing?"  * 

It  was  agreed  that  first  oi  all  I  should  get  a 
boarding-house,  and  then  a  situation.  The  first 
was  easily  accomplished  at  an  expense  of  fifteen 
dollars  a  week.     The  second  was  not  so  easy. 

In  my  first  attempt,  I  was  victimized  by  what 
you  may  call  "intelligence"  offices;  but,  if  I  am 
to  name  them  on  the  merits  of  this  experience,  I 
will  call  them  dens  of  robbery. 

I  spent  about  half  a  day  among  these  sharpers ; 
and,  as  I  did  not  know  the  city,  I  relied  on  the  good 
offices  of  a-  hackman,  between  whom  and  the  em- 
ployment men,  I  was  rendered  about  fifteen  dollars 
less  in  purse  in  a  few  hours. 

Let  me  briefly  relate  a  part  of  my  misfortunes 
with  these  fellows  :  — 

The  first  to  whom  I  applied  took  me  in  with  an 
ease  and  grace  such  as  only  a  Yankee  can  display 
on  studied  occasions.     He  could  see  at  a  glance 


I    ^fan«i>«Mn 


THAT  YOUNG  MAN. 


57 


both  togeth- 
titne  to  go 

low,  Lotta," 
)ut  to  work. 
1  the  squire 

hould  get  a 
The  first 
e  of  fifteen 
3  easy. 
;ed  by  what 
Hit,  if  I  am 
xperience,  I 

ie  sharpers; 
on  the  good 
md  the  em- 
tcen  dollars 

misfortunes 

;  in  with  an 
can  display 
at  a  glance 


that  it  would  require  definite  information  to  create 
in  my  mind  any  adequate  conception  of  what  the 
province  of  an  intelligence-office  was ;  hence  he 
managed  me  in  leisurely. 

I  gave  him  a  specimen  of  my  handwriting,  which 
was  a  little  too  cramped,  he  thought,  but  had  no 
doubt  that  experience  would  give  it  a  more  open 
and  an  easier  appearance.  He  asked  questions 
about  my  moral  character,  all  of  which  I  answered 
with  a  sad  recollection.  I  emphasized  my  expe- 
rience as  a  school-teacher,  but  avoided  any  comment 
on  my  mercantile  experience. 

I  gave  him  two  dollars  for  the  situation,  and 
found  out  at  this  turn  of  the  business  that  it  was 
another  man  altogether  with  whom  I  was  to  settle 
concerning  the  compensation  and  other  particulars. 
Armed  with  a  note  of  introduction  from  my  well- 
paid  informant,  I  started  in  search  of  the  street 
and  number  where  I  should,  as  he  had  assured  me, 
come  into  possession  of  a  permanent  and  remuner- 
ative position. 

I  was  received  with  great  courtesy;  and,  after 
answering  some  ten  or  fifteen  questions,  he  decided 
to  engage  me  as  his  book-keeper,  but  wanted  to 
know  if  I  would  have  any  objections  to  collecting 
city  bills  two  days  out  of  each  week. 


/    i 


S8 


THAT  YOUNG  MAN. 


I  consented  graciously.    Then  said  he, ' 

"  If  you  will  deposit  two  hundred  dollars  as  se- 
curity for  your  honesty,  you  can  have  the  place  at 
twenty  dollars  a  week." 

We  made  considerable  talk,  in  which  I  offered 
to  put  up  one  hundred  and  fifty  in  the  hands  of  a 
bank ;  but  he  wanted  the  money  in  his  own  pos- 
session, and  proceeded  to  argue  the  case,  when  we 
were  interrupted  by  the  sudden  approach  of  a  tall 
young  man,  fully  as  green  as  myself,  and  evidently 
from  the  country,  who  came  in  exasperated :  — 

"  Say,  Mr.,  by  the  powers,  if  you  don't  give  me 
that  two  hundred  dollars,  I'll  take  the  law  of  you. 
You  swindled  me  outright,  and  I  c.an  prove  it,"  he 
roared  out  as  one  aggrieved. 

My  would-be  employer  was  disconcerted,  and  led 
the  visitor  to  an  adjoining  room,  returning  quickly 
with  so  smooth  an  apology,  that  I  was  fully  per- 
suaded the  bar  had  suffered  a  heavy  loss  in  the 
errors  of  his  early  education. 

I  promised  to  consider  the  matter,  and  return 
with  a  decision  ;  but  I  failed  in  the  last  item. 

It  was  probably  the  sorrows  of  this  victim,  thus 
publicly  manifested,  which  enabled  me  and  my  last 
one  hundred  and  fifty  dollars  to  continue  on 
friendly  terms  a  little  longer. 


riMkii 


««*MMM> 


lollars  as  se- 
the  place  at 

ch  I  offered 
!  hands  of  a 
lis  own  pos- 
ise,  when  we 
ch  of  a  tall 
nd  evidently 
ated :  — 
n't  give  me 
law  of  you. 
prove  it,"  he 

ted,  and  led 
ling  quickly 
is  fully  per- 
loss  in  the 

and  return 
item. 

wtim,  thus 
ind  my  last 
ontinue  on 


THAT  YOUNG  MAN, 


59 


I  paid  others  two  dollars  each  for  similar  posi- 
tions, but  could  not  make  any  of  them  fit.  At 
length  the  only  genuine  aspect  of  the  intelligence 
business  appeared. 

For  two  dollars  I  received  the  address  of  a  Han- 
over-street dry-goods  dealer,  who  was  in  pressing 
need  of  a  clerk.  Thcuce  I  repaired,  and  after  ten 
minutes'  conversation  he  offered  me  six  dollars  a 
week,  which,  when  compared  with  the  fifteen  for 
my  board,  was  altogether  out  of  proportion. 

I  returned  to  Lotta  sad^  but  not  discouraged,  and 
did  all  I  could  to  convince  her  that  the  prospect 
was  good.  As  I  wished  to  be  guided  by  her  judg- 
ment, I  submitted  for  her  consideration  the  posi- 
tion I  had  been  offered  at  twenty  dollars  a  week  as 
bookkeeper  and  bill-collector,  leaving  out  any  men- 
tion of  the  one  hundred  and  fifty  security  dodge. 
She  approved  of  it  at  once,  and  advised  n  e  to  take 
it ;  and  I  said  that  if  nothing  better  could  be  found 
during  the  afternoon  I  would  do  so,  bat  didn't  mean 
a  word  of  it. 

I  was  now  considerably  agitated,  though  i  kept 
my  feelings  carefully  from  Lotta.  The  future 
looked  dark. 

After  dinner  I  consulted  a  "  Herald  ;"  and,  after 


6e 


THAT  YOUNG  MAN. 


scanning  the  want  column,  found  that  ;i  heavy 
Dojk-squarc  furniture  establishment  war  n  need 
of  a  graincr. 

About  six  years  before,  I  had  seen  a  man  grain  a 
door,  which  was  all  the  knowledge  I  possessed  of 
the  art ;  but  I  was  actuated  by  a  happy  resolve. 

The  time  had  come  to  use  a  little  wit.  I  was  in 
the  Yankee  metropolis,  where  drones  starve,  and 
where  tact  becomes  wealthy.  Thus  meditating,  I 
walked  rapidly  to  the  establishment. 

"  Wanted  a  graincr,  I  sec,  sir,"  I  said  to  the  fore- 
man. "  What  will  you  pay  an  A  No.  I  grainer, 
who  is  capable  of  doing  all  kinds  of  work  ?  " 

"  It  is  for  bedroom  sets  that  wc  need  a  man. 
Yet  the  work  is  quite  particular,  and  must  be  care- 
fully done,"  he  replied. 

"  Well,  what  do  you  pay  .'  "  I  demanded. 

"  Twenty  dollars  a  week,"  he  answered. 

"  Only  twenty  a  week  for  a  first-class  grainer ! 
You  astonish  me  !  Guess  I  will  go  back  to  Provi- 
dence, if  you  are  an  authority  on  Boston  prices." 

I  had  never  seen  Providence ;  but,  as  that  city 
was  in  the  direction  opposite  to  that  in  which  I  had 
come,  I  used  the  remark  for  obvious  reasons. 

We  settled  on  twenty-two  dollars  and  a  half  a 


THAT  YOUNG  MAN. 


ftl 


lat  a  heavy 
vaf    n  need 

man  grain  a 
possessed  of 
^  resolve, 
t.  I  was  in 
starve,  and 
meditating,  I 

1  to  the  fore- 
0.  I  grainer, 
)rk  ? " 

iced  a  man. 
(lust  be  care- 

ded. 
red. 

lass  grainer! 
ick  to  Provi- 
3n  prices." 
as  that  city 
1  which  I  had 
easons. 
ind  a  half  a 


week  and  he  wanted  me  to  peel  off  and  go  to 
work  that  afternoon  ;  but  I  demurred,  and  promised 
to  report  for  duty  at  seven  o'clock  the  next  morn- 
ing, which  I  did. 


THAT  YOUNG  MAN. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 


IT  was  scarcely  past  two  o'clock  when  my  en- 
gagement as  grainer  had  been  completed  ;  and  I 
made-  good  use  of  the  time  remaining  before  I 
should  have  to  meet  the  difficulties  of  my  new 

position. 

Half  an  hour  later  I  was  on  the  elevator  leading 
to  the  upper  flat  of  a  large  Cambridge  furniture- 
factory.  At  the  polishing-room  I  requested  the 
foreman  to  show  me  to  the  graining  department. 
There  I  found  my  man.  He  was  one  of  those 
genial  fellows  who  are  always  ready  to  hear  and 
answer  a  question. 

"I  came  here  for  a  few  lessons  in  graining. 
Teach  me  all  you  can  of  the  art  during  the  next 
three  hours,  — how  to  prepare  the  materials,  and 
when  and  for  what  and  how  to  use  the  sponge,  the 
blender,  the  comb,  and  the  brush;"  and  I  backed 
the  request  with  a  five-dollar  bill,  which  he  was 


\ 


THAT  YOUNG  MAN. 


<i 


vhcn  my  cn- 
pletcd  ;  and  I 
ing  before  I 
i  of  my  new 

ivator  leading 
ige  furniture- 
requested  the 
;  department, 
one  of  those 
•  to  hear  and 

;  in  graining, 
iring  the  next 
materials,  and 
he  sponge,  the 
and  I  backed 
which  he  was 


forced  to  accept  before  half   comprehending   my 

designs.  - 

The  next  morning  I  appeared  for  duty;  and, 
having  purchased  a  wcll-cliubed  pair  of  overalls 
from  my  Cambridge  teacher,  was  enabled  to  pre- 
sent the  appearance  of  an  old  graincr. 

I  spent  most  of  the  forenoon  in  making  roady, 
and  in  the  afternoon  struck  out  boldly  with  so-  nge 
and  blender,  turning  out  some  unique  patterns  of 
maple,  butternut,  chestnut,  ash,  walnut,  &c.  : 

The  foreman  eyed  the  first  set  with  evidait 
satisfaction,  and  remarked  that  my  designs  were 
slightly  original. 

Lotta  was  considerably  amused  over  this  ven- 
•    ture,  and  half  forgot  her  trouble  with  the  Novelty 
of  the  situation.     She  had  predicted  a  failure,  and 
met  me  in  the  door  of  our  room,  on  my  return  after 
the  first  day's  work,  with,  —  v       , 

"Good-evening.  C.amerl"     • 
' '        "  Good-evening,  Mrs.  Grainer ! "  I  replied,  with  a 
better  feeling  than  I  had  enjoyed  for  months. 

After  several  weeks  in  the  graining  business,  in 
which  I  had  become  an  expert  on  bedroom  sets, 
the  seven  dollars  and  fifty  cents  pro;;  on  each 
week's  labor  was  no  longer  sufficient  to  Ivoid  me. 


",«WIHj- 


64 


THAT   YOUNG  MAN. 


Perhaps  the  first  thing  that  broke  the  pleasant 
routine  of  my  enjoyment  was  a  remark  that  had 
been,  unguardedly,  dropped  by  Lotta  one  evening 
after  she  had  been  summing  up  our  prospects. 

"  It  will  take  a  long  time,  Jean,  to  pay  our  debts 
at  this  rate.     Can't  I  get  a  situation   too  ? "  she 

asked. 

Early  in  November  I  got  a  day  off  without  the 
knowledge  of  Lotta,  and  spent  it  in  looking  for 
something  more  profitable,  but  without  success  as 
it  appeared  to  me  at  the  close  of  the  day. 

In  my  rounds  of  observation  I  came  across  Bick- 
ford's  knitting-machine  establishment,  then  on 
Bromfield  Street. 

These  curious  knitters  were  interesting  objects 

'  to  me.     When  a  boy  I  had  knit  many  a  pair  of 

gloves   and  mittens;    and  the  presence   of   these 

machines    awakened    within    me  recollections   of 

home    and    boyhood.      I   loved   to  linger  among 

them. 

The  genial  and  keen-sighted  Bickford  observed 
my  interest,  and  soon  became  my  salesman. 

A  little  later,  with  a  bundle  of  yarn  under  one 
arm,  and  a  knitter  under  the  other,  I  was  on  my. 
way  home.    Why  I  made  the  purchase,  I  never 


..jxsim!mmf«eii^ 


■n»iiim(|iMiiiut'?CT' 


THAT  YOUNG  MAN. 


«5 


LC  the  pleasant 
nark  that  had 
a  one  evening 
prospects. 
)  pay  our  debts 
on   too  ?  "  she 

)ff  without  the 
in  looking  for 
lout  success  as 
;  day. 

Tie  across  Bick- 
ment,  then  on 

;resting  objects 
many  a  pair  of 
sence  of  these 
recollections  of 
)  linger  among 

:kford  observed 
alesman. 
yarn  under  one 
;r,  I  was  on  my. 
irchase,  I  never 


knew,  but  attribute  the  event  to  Bickford's  shrewd- 
ness. He  sold  me  the  machine  by  sheer  manipula- 
tion. I  did  not  buy  it  in  any  large  sense ;  but  his 
receipts  were  thirty-five  dpUars  larger  that  by 
because  of  my  visit. 

"  What  in  the  world  are  you  going  to  do  with 
that,  Jean  > "  asked  Lotta,  thoroughly  astonished  at 
my  purchase. 

"  Oh !  I  got  it  for  you  to  amuse  yourself  with. 
You  have  no  piano,  therefore  you  can  knit  me 
some  socks  on  it,  which  will  awaken  fond  recollec- 
tions of   gone-by  days,"  I  answered,  half  out  of 

humor. 

"  How  much  did  it  cost,  Jean  ? "  she  followed  up 

earnestly. 

"  The  machine  cost  twenty-five  dollars."  I  hesi- 
tated before  making  the  reply.  .  ':    . 

"  And  the  yarn  ?  "  she  continued. 

"  Ten  dollars.  Why  do  you  ask  ? "  I  spoke  re- 
provingly. V   .^■ 

Lotta  turned  away,  and  had  a  good  cry.  Here 
was  another  manifestation  of  my  recklessness. 
With  it  came  to  her  a  fearful  recollection  of  the 
past,  and  she  sobbed  outright. 

A  friend  came  in  that  evening,  and  remained 


r- 


66 


THAT  YOUNG  MAN. 


until  a  late  hour.     Lotta  and  he  were  old  acquaint- 
ances, and  they  talked  eagerly  over  early  associa-     , 
tions,  while,  in   one  corner  by  myself.  I    experi- 
mented on  the  knitter.  •         .  ' 

At  ten  o'clock  I  jumped  from  my  chair  fully 
two  feet  from  the  floor,  as  if  struck,  and  shouted  at 
the  top  of  my  voice, — 

"  A  fortune !     A  fortune  1 " 

Lotta  and  our  visitor  started  up  in  amazement, 
but  I  gave  them  no  time  for  reproof. 

«  Flemming,"  I  asked  excitedly,  "  do  you  want  a 

job?" 

"  That  I  do,"  he  replied. 
"  Are  you  much  of  a  travelling  salesman  ? " 
« I  reckon  I  can  do  that  business  a  little  after 
four  years  on  the  road." 

"Then    consider    yourself    engaged   for   three 
'    months  on  a  salary,  -  well,  say  twenty  doUars  a 
week,  and  railroad  fare." 

"  It  is  a  bargain,"  he  replied,  and  reached  out 

his  hand  to  confirm  it. 

I  took  his  hand,  and  the  bargain  was  closed. 

Lotta  was  now  half  amused,  half  alarmed,  and 
half  bewildered,  if,  indeed,  there  can  be  three  halves 
to  a  whole ;  and  she  came  over  to  my  chair,  and 
said, — 


J 


■>w*»wi-BHTiU-*i'  Jrfff 


old  rxquaint- 
early  associa- 
jU,  I    experi- 

y  chair  fully 
nd  shouted  at 


1  amazement, 
io  you  want  a 


esman  ? " 

3  a  little  after 

ged   for   three 
'enty  dollars  a 

id  reached  out 

svas  closed, 
ilf  alarmed,  and 
be  three  halves 
o  my  chair,  and 


!AT  YOUNG  MAN. 


67 


"  Why,  Jean,  this  sounds  like  business." 
I  left  her  examining  my  work,  and  ran  down 
stairs,  where  I  engaged,  from  the  landlady,  the  use 
of   her  upper  unoccupied  <ind  unfurnished  rooms 
for  three  months  ;  and  returning  I  said,  — 

"  Flemming,  old  boy,  come  down  to  the '  Herald ' 
office  with  me.  I  want  to  advertise  for  some  girls." 
Lotta  did  not  heed  my  words,  so  deeply  was  she 
absorbed  trying  to  solve  the  particular  stitch  which 
I  had  obtained  by  a  change  of  needles.  Bent 
over   the  knitter,  they  were    both  admiring  my 

discovery. 

"Jean,  this  is  perfectly  beautiful:  how  did  you 
do  it  ? "  asked  Lotta,  turning  towards  me. 

«  No  time  'or  explanation,"  I  said.  "  Come,  old 
boy,  on  with  your  coat." 

In  next  morning's  "Herald"  there  appeared  in 

the  want-column :  — 

"Wanted,  twenty  girls  to  work  on  children's  scarfs. 
Apply  at  once  to '! • 

Three  days  later  there  was  a  buzzing  noise  in 
the  upper  rooms  of  our  boarding-house,  and  Lotta 
was  forewoman  in  a  factory  for  the  first  time  in 
her  life. 


^.--["""nmai'' 


68 


THAT  YOUNG  MAN. 


With  seventeen  girls  she  managed  to  tassel  the 
scarfs  as  fast  as  I,  with  an  «xpert  bobbin-winder, 

could  knit  them. 

Thus  we  toiled  on,  our  hearts  being  refreshed 
from  day  to  day  with  such  telegrams  from  our  trav- 
elling  man  as,  — 

"Send  one  hundred  dozen  to .    If  you  can't  turn 

them  out  faster  I  might  as  well  quit  the  road. 

"Flemming." 

By  January  the  same  scarf  was  being  knit  in  a  hun- 
dred places  throughout  New  England,  but  the  sea- 
son was  over  before  my  secret  had  been  discovered ; 
and,  best  of  all,  Lotta  and  I  were  enabled,  after  dis- 
charging every  claim,  not  only  in  connection  with 
this  enterprise,  but  at  Winthrop  also,  to  count  two 
thousand  dollars,  all  our  own,  which  we  agreed  to 
divide  equally  between  us. 


% 


..ijjji'ijf '■!  '»>  W«im^^"i  i»" 


o  tassel  the 
ibbin-winder, 


THAT  YOUNG  MAN. 


69 


ng  refreshed 
rom  our  trav- 


you  can't  turn 

"  Flemming." 

knitinahun- 
,  but  the  sea- 
:n  discovered ; 
bled,  after  dis- 
nnection  with 
to  count  two 
we  agreed  to 


CHAPTER  IX. 

AT  the  close  of  the  worsted  business  I  had  lit- 
tle difficulty  in  persuading  Lotta  to  make  a 
tour  of  the  New  England  and  Northern  States  with 
me  We  talked  of  going  home,  but  decided  that  it 
would  be  much  better  to  wait  until  we  had  accu- 
mulated  a  fortune,  and  perchance  I  had.  through 
possible  achievements,  rendered  my  name,  in  some 

degree,  famous. 

At  Hartford  and  New  Haven  we  had  pleasant 
visits  ;  and  after  two  days  at  the  St.  Nicholas  and 
three  at  the  Metropolitan,  (then  in  its  prime  under 
the  proprietary  of  the  Lelands),  we  had  seen  all 
of  New  York  calculated  to  please  or  instruct  in  the 

winter  season.  , 

While  at  the  Metropolitan  we  visited  Niblo  s, 
where  Lotta  witnessed  a  theatrical  performance  for 
the  first  time.  She  accompanied  me  under  protest ; 
but  before  the  curtain  dropped  on  the  second  act 
she  remarked, — 


il 


ii;i 


I! 


70' 


THAT  YOUNG  MAN. 


«'Wcll,  I  don't  wonder  people  attend  theatres. 
Isn't  it  perfectly  splendid  ? " 

Albany  was  a  dull  city,  and  therefore  the  Dele-  ' 
van  kept  us  but  one  day.     At  othe^  paces  we  made    1 
longer  or  shorter  visits,  until,  returning  to  one  of 
the  most  beautiful  New  England  cities,  we  decided 

to  settle. 

Having  entered  into  housekeeping  in  a  small 
way,  I  began  to  cast  about  for  some  pleasant  busi- 
ness of  a  permanent  character.  Many  opportuni- 
ties offered ;  but  most  of  them  had  a  "  skeleton  in 
the  cupboard,"  and  I  determined  not  to  lose  what 
little  I  had  made,  by  any  wild  speculation. 

bne  morning,  as  Lotta  and  I  sat  together  at  our 
pleasant  grate  fire,  the  girl,  Minnie,  who  had 
answered  the  door-bell,  came  in,  and  remarked  hur- 
riedly,—  • 

"  There's  a  man  at  the  door,  what's  got  a  paper 

to  inscribe  for." 

"  Tell  him  to  come  in,  Minnie,"  I  replied,  laugh- 
ing at  her  misplaced  prefix. 

I  was  anxious  for  something  to  occupy  my  mind, 
and  thought  a  chat  with  this  canvasser  might  break 
the  dull  monotony  of  idleness.  I  had  been  out  of 
business  for  months,  and  my  restless  ambition  was 
now  weary  of  restraint. 


THAT  YOUNG  MAN. 


m 


nd  theatres. 

)re  the  Dele- 
Lces  we  made 
is:  to  one  of 
5,  we  decided 

;  in  a  small 
pleasant  busi- 
ly opportuni- 
"  skeleton  in 
;  to  lose  what 
tion. 

)gether  at  our 
lie,  who  had 
remarked  hur- 

5  got  a  paper 

replied,  laugh- 

;upy  my  mind, 
;r  might  break 
ad  been  out  of 
5  ambition  was 


The  solicitor  presented  his  paper  in  a  neat  but 

fluent  little  address,  which  his  employer  had  prob- 

.  ably  taught  him.  setting  forth  its  character  and 

nierits.  and  closing  by  assuring  me  that  it  wodd 

eventually  find  a  welcome  in  every  home  m  the 

State.  ,  /    1, 

In  the  middle  of  his  talk  my  mmd  was  struck     , 
with  an  idea,  and  I  heard  nothing  he  said  after  that ; 
and,  when  he  presented  me  with  his  order-book  and 
■     pencil,  I  awoke  as  from  a  dream. 

"No,"  I  said,  "I  will  not  subscribe!"  and  dis- 
missed  him  in  short  metre. 

"  Good-morning,  Lotta.     I  am  going  down  town 
to  see  what  the  day  wiU  bring  forth  ; "  and  I  started 
.      away  without  hinting  to  her  of  the  large  enterprise 
that  had  already  possessed  my  soul. 

Let  us  call  the  city  in  which  we  lived  New  Bos- 
ton,  for  purposes  of  location.    It  was  the  oldest 
:      and  largest  city  in  one  of  the  New  England  States. 
With  a  beautiful  harbor,  and  an  extensive  merchant 
marine.  New  Boston  had  grown  into  no  mean  com- 
mercial eminence. 

Her  old  and  famous  university  gave  the  place  a 
literary  cast;  and  altogether  there  was  no  more 
agreeable  place  to  live,  from  Maine  to  Georgia. 


72 


THAT  YOUNG  MAN. 


The  city  contained  four  daily  besides  several 
weekly  newspapers,  and  literature  of  all  kinds  was 
duly  encouraged.  I  looked  the  field  over,  carefully 
as  I  thought,  measured  my  fitness  for  the  task, 
correctly  as  I  hoped,  and  then  decided. 

"  I  shall  call  it  the  '  Sunday  Morning  Gazette,' 
Lotta ;  and  we  will  send  a  copy  of  the  first  number 
to  the  squire.    You  must  compose  a  poem  for  it." 

I  was  sitting  at  our  table  with  a  sheet  of  double 
medium  before  me,  marking  out  the  lines  where  the 
column-rules  were  to  come,  adjusting  the  width  of 
the  columns,  and  otherwise  deciding  on  the  form 
and  size  of  my  new  venture. 

«'  O  Jean  !  I  wish  you  would  take  my  advice.  I 
feel  somehow  that  you  will  lose  every  cent  you 
put  into  it,"  and  Lotta  begged  hard  in  opposi- 
tion. 

"  Now,  Lotta,  what  do  you  know  about  the 
newspaper  business  ?  and  why  will  you  presume  to 
advise  me  on  such  a  matter  ?  "  I  retorted  angrily. 

"  It  is  because  neither  of  us  know  any  thing 
about  the  business,  that  I  oppose  it,  Jean,"  she 
.   answered,  in  a  tone  of  kindness. 

"  Lotta,  I  have  decided :  do  you  know  what  that 
means  ?    All  the  contracts  for  the  Sprinting  are 


THAT  YOUNG  MAN, 


73 


jsidcs  several 
all  kinds  was 
over,  carefully 
for  the  task, 
d. 

ling  Gazette,' 
e  first  number 
poem  for  it." 
leet  of  double 
ines  where  the 
;  the  width  of 
y  on  the  form 

my  advice.  I 
;very  cent  you 
ird  in  opposi- 

ow  about    the 
low.  presume  to 
orted  angrily, 
now  any  thing 
it,  Jean,"  she 

:now  what  that 
e  "printing  are 


made,  and  the  first  number  is  to  appear  one  week 
from  Sunday  next." 

My  reply  was  in  a  decided  accent,  and  Lotta  felt 

its  power. 

"  I  am  afraid  that  will  of  yours  will  ruin  you 
some  day,  Jean,"  Lotta  said  in  a  tone  of  resig- 
nation. . 
« Jean  Clarkson,  editor  and  proprietor,  vol.  i.. 
No.  I.    That  sounds  about  right,  don't  it,  Lotta  ?  " 
■       "It  sounds  funny  enough,  Jean.    They  will  think 
'   you  crazy  at  home  when  they  read  it." 

"  Hush !  listen  to  my  salutatory,  and  tell  me 
what  you  think  of  it ; "  and  I  read : 

"  SALUTATORY. 
"With  the  issue  of  the  first  number  of  'The  Sunday 
Morning  Gazette'  we  desire  to  announce  to  the  people  of  New 
Boston  and  vicinity,  that  we  have  determined  to  supply  a  long- 
felt  want  in  the  field  of  journalism,  by  giving  to  the  people 
at  the  close  of  each  week,  in  a  neat  and  acceptable  ^orm,  a 
journal  that  shall  contain  in  some  degree  of  elaboration,  not 
only  a  summary  of  the  important  news,  and  a  collection  o 
the  best  contributions  to  science  and  art,  but  an  able  and 
lucid  exposition  of  all  questions  in  politics,  religion,  com- 
merce,  agriculture,  and  kindred  subjects,  both  local  and  na- 
tional, in  which  undertaking  we  hope  to  merit  the  hearty 


74 


THAT  YOUNG  MAN, 


support  of  an  intelligent  and  discriminating  public,  and  to 
which  wc  cheerfully  and  enthusiastically  bring  a  journalistic 
experience  of  m;fny  years." 

"  How  do  you  like  the  first  sentence,  Lotta  ? "  I 
asked  before  reading  farther. 

"  It  is  long  enotigh,  Jean,  but  I  don't  like  it,"  she 
replied  after  a  short  pause.  "  Please  read  me  the 
last  clause  again." 

"  And  to  which  we  cheerfully  and  enthusiastic- 
ally bring  a  journalistic  exoerience  of  many  years," 
I  repeated. 

"  Is  that  truthful,  Je?.n  ?  "  asked  Lotta.  .  * 

"  Pshaw !  you  oug'  t  to  know  that  a  newspaper 

is  the  last  place  in  the  world  in  Avhich  to  look  for 

the  truth."  - 

"  Then  I  am  all  the  more  opposed  to  your  hav- 
ing any  thing  to  do  with  the  business,"  she  said 

impatiently. 

I  did  not  read  the  remainder  of  my  salutatory  to 
Lotta,  nor  was  she  in  the  least  anxious  to  hear  it. 

My  little  parlor  was  now  turned  into  a  sanctum, 
much  to  Lotta's  annoyance  ;  and  as  we  lived  near 
the  business  centre  I  managed  to  dispense  with  the 
luxury  of  an  office.  My  paper  was  printed  at  a 
down-town  printing-house;  and  I  used  one  of  the 


IS 


jifii 

t( .  til  1 


(Ml 


THAT  YOUNG  MAM. 


fl 


e;  pu'olic,  and  to 
ig  a  journalistic 

ce,  Lotta  ? "  I 

I't  like  it,"  she 
:  read  me  the 

d  enthusiastic- 
f  many  years," 

.otta. 

,t  a  newspaper 

ich  to  look  for 

d  to  your  hav- 
ness,"  she  said 

ny  salutatory  to 
ous  to  hear  it. 
nto  a  sanctum, 
s  we  lived  near 
spense  with  the 
as  printed  at  a 
ised  one  of  the 


unoccupied  rooms  in  the  same  building,  granted  me 
out  of  a  consideration  for  my  patron- jc,  for  mailing 
purposes  and  supplying  newsboys,  neither  of  which 
were  extensive  operations. 

One  forenoon,  as   I   was  poring    over  my  ex- 
changes, Minnie  announced  a  lady  who  wished  to 
see  the  editor.    The  caller  was  shown  into  my 
sanctum,  and  presented  me  the  following  note  :  — 
.   ■  •  •  J.      ^ 

New  Bostok,  April  -^. 
To  THE  Editor,  &c.- This  will  iutrocluce  Miss  Speed- 
well, who  would  like  to  show  you  a  poem.  1  have  read  per- 
tions  of  it,  and  cannot  speak  too  strongly  in  its  praise.  It 
may  be  found  too  long  for  one  issue,  but  it  could  be  pub- 
lished in  instalments. 

Respectfully  yours,         _  '      ^ 

James  Hancock. 

Mr.  Hancock  had  recently  been  defeated  for 
Congress,  but  was  a  prominent  and  popular  lawyer 
of  considerable  wealth. 

Miss  Speedwell  had  preserved  her  single-blessed- 
ness for  more  than  fifty  years,  living  in  peace,  and 
quiet  with  an  inherited  competency,  and  with  no 
•  extraordinary  characteristics  save  an  unfortunate 
desire  to  benefit  mankind  with  the  products  of  her 
poetical  genius. 


or^ 


76 


r//Ar  YOUNG  MAN, 


; 


lipii 


On  this  occasion  she  unrolled  a  package,  handing 
mc  the  contents,  —  about  three  hundred  closely- 
written  foolscap  pages  of  manuscript,  — a  poem 
entitled  "The  Orphan  Girl."  '  ' 

Scanning  the  manuscript  hurriedly,  I  remarked 
that  she  had  hit  upon  a  fine  title,  as  the  words 
"  orphan  girl "  would  awaken  a  deep  vein  of  sym- 
pathy ;  and  I  felt,  though  I  did  not  openly  express 
it,  that  she  must  needs  create  sympathy  if  the 
poem  ever  saw  the  light. 

"  I  have  copyrighted  it,  reserving  all  rights," 
she  remarked,  no  doubt  in  hope  of  setting  aside 
any  fraudulent  designs  I  might  have  entertained 
of  infringing  on  her  poetical  rights. 

She  left  the  poem  ;  and  I  agreed  to  examine  it, 
or,  rather,  mentioned  that  Mrs.  Clarkson,  upon 
whose  poetical  genius  I  relied  in  such  matters, 
would  look  it  over,  and  give  her  an  answer  in  the 
course  of  two  or  three  days. 

Lotta  was  present,  and  shook  her  head  at  me 
threateningly.  She  had  but  little  sympathy  with 
my  enterprise,  and  read  her  Bible  much  more  than 
my  paper.  ^ 

Thus  the  scenes  came  and  went,  one  after  another, 
for  months.    I  enjoyed  the  business,  but  was  daily 


•I-- 


THAT  YOUNG  MAN. 


n 


:kagc,  handing 
iidrcd  closcly- 
ipt,  —  a  poem 

ly,  I  remarked 
,  as  the  words 
1  vein  of  sym- 
openly  express 
mpathy  if  the 

ng  all  rights," 
f  setting  aside 
ive  entertained 

to  examine  it, 
Zllarkson,  upon 

such  matters, 
I  answer  in  the 

ler  head  at  me 
sympathy  with 
mch  more  than 

ne  after  another, 
s,  but  was  daily 


sinking  money.     The  treasury  was  almost  empty, 
when  I  resolved  on  a  bold  expedient  to  save  the 

journalistic  ship.  . 

I  had  dabbled  with  poems  and  essays  until  it 
became  evident  there  was  no  money  v.  that  side 
of  the  business;  and  1  now  resolved  to  strike  out 

into  politics. 

The  Hon.  John  Henderson,  son  of  Hon.  Greene 
Henderson,  a  prominent  resident  of  the  Waterville 
Valley,  not  twenty  miles  distant,  was  an  aspirant 
for  Congress.  His  father  had  been  a  useful  man 
in  his  day.  but  was  now  old  and  superannuated. 
The  son  was  vain  but  ambitious. 

I  visited  this  would-be  Congressman,  and  repre- 
sented, that,  owing  to  the  wide  circulation  and  high 
moral  character  of  the  "  Gazette,"  he  would  do  well 
to  secure  its  influence. 

Having  a  desire  to  see  him  elected,  based  on 
prmciple,  (?)  I  was  willing  to  work  editorially  for  a 
successful  issue  of  the  contest-for  a  fair  com- 

pensation.  ,    l     u 

After  considerable  talk,  we  agreed  that  I  should 

put' forth  his  name  as  a  candidate;  and  I  was  to 

receive  five  hundred  dollars  on  the  appearance  of 

the  first  article,  five  hundred  more  when  he  was 


5 1  ii ; 


m 


78 


n/AT  YOUNG  MAN. 


nominated,    and  five    hundred  more    if   he   was 

elected. 

These  were  large  figures,  considering  the  influ- 
ence of  my  paper,  and  the  terms  of  payment  were 
reasonable  ;  but  the  contract  was  only  verbal. 

Lotta  shook  her  head  apprehensively  at  the 
whole  story ;  but  I  persisted,  and  the  paper  ap- 
peared with  a  flaming  editorial,  in  which  the  Hon. 
John  Henderson  was  hdd  forth  as  a  fit  man  for 
Congress,  in  strong  colors. 

Two  days  after  its  appearance  I  received  the 
following  note  in  answer  to  mine  for  a  r<^;mittance 
of  the  first  instalment.     It  ran  thus  :  ~ 

Waterville,  Oct.  —. 

Jean  Clarkson,  Esq. 

Dear  Sir,  —  I  regret  to  say  that  I  am  unable  to  respond 
favorr'bly  to  your  request  for  aid  to  your  valuable  journal. 
Other  demands  more  imperative  make  it  impossible.  Wish- 
ing you  success, 

I  remain  sincerely  yours, 
,  .  John  Henderson. 

This  set  me  into  a  foaming  rage.  Henderson,  it 
was  plain,  intended  to  go  back  on  the  whole 
arrangement.  My  temper  could  no  longer  restrain 
its  force,  when  Lotta  exclaimed,  — 


77/^4  7'  YOUNG  MAN. 


79 


are    If   he   was 

ering  the  influ- 
)f  payment  were 
inly  verbal.  *  : 
ensively  at  the 
d  the  paper  ap- 
which  the  Hon. 
IS  a  fit  man  for 

!  I  received  the 
for  a  remittance 

,s :  — 

iTatbrville,  Oct.  — . 

1  unable  to  respond 
>ur  valuable  journal. 
t  impossible.    Wish- 

yours, 
John  Henderson. 

;e.  Henderson,  it 
:k  on  the  whole 
no  longer  restrain 


"  There,  /  ttold  you  !  " 

And  it  is  possible  I  us'-d  language  unbecommg 
the  husband  of  a  Christian  lady. 

I  meditated  an  hour  or  so  when  a  plan  came  into 
my  mind  ;  and,  as  it  entered  in  the  hour  of  wrath.  I 
will  credit  Satan  for  suggesting  it. 

It  was  now  evident  that  I  should  outwit  my  base 
deceiver.  The  plan  was  not  altogether  right,  but  I 
have  never  wholly  repented  thereof. 

Evident  indeed  it  was,  that,  unless  overcome  in 
some  way,  the  blow  would  sink  my  literary  ship; 
and  I  resolved  not  to  go  down  in  a  politica  storm 
without  revenge.    It  was  therefore  a  time  for  bold 

^^'Thanged  the  head-line  of  my  journal,  and  called 
it  "  The  Saturday  Evening  Messenger,"  vol.  i.,  No. 
,  In  a  new  salutatory,  I  marked  out  a  new  field, 
and  closed  hoping  to  merit  greater  success  than 
had  my  late  contemporary  "  The  Gazette, .  which 
as  I  had  been  informed,  had  perished.  This  journal 
was    ostensibly  published    by  the  "Messenger 

Company,  and  no  editor  was  announced. 

In  this  issue  I  said  all  the  evil  things  of  Hen- 

derson  that  had  ever  been  rumored  against  him 
■      from  his  boyhood.     Sending  him  a  marked  copy 


"iw; 


80 


THAT  YOUNG  MAN. 


of  the  paper,  I  wrote  a  note  in  whilh  I  charged 
him  squarely  with  his  deception,  and  gave  him  his 
choice,  to  fulfil  his  agreement,  or  tiike  the  conse- 
quences. ■  ,  J 

On  the  following  day  he  paid  me  a  visit.  I  was 
firm  and  unrelenting.  Finally  he  offered  to  hand 
over  the  first  instalment,  providing  I  would  let  him 
off.  This  was  agreed  to ;  and  ever  after,  I  doubt 
not,  Henderson  has  fulfilled  his  newspaper  engage- 
ments promptly. 

I  appealed  to  my  wife,  that  my  plan  had  been 
only  fair  since  he  had  so  basely  deceived  me ;  but 
she  protested  that  I  had  sinned,  as  I  had  returned 
evil  for  evil. 

"The  Gazette"  did  not  survive,  neither  did 
"The  Messenger"  re-appear;  and  there  was  no 
undue  excitement  or  display  at  their  burial. 


ff'i'ii;, 


tgOltXIIWlKB 


THAT  YOUNG  MAN. 


rth  I  charged 

gave  him  his 

ke  the  conse- 

1  visit.  I  was 
fered  to  hand 
would  let  him 
after.  I  doubt 
paper  engage- 

)lan  had  been 

eived  me ;  but 

had  returned 

;,  neither  did 
there  was  no 
ir  burial. 


J 


CHAPTER  X.  ,    . 

IT  was  now  more  than  a  year  since  "  The  Ga- 
zette" had  been  laid  away  in  an  early  grave. 
Lotta  in  company  with  a  cousin  had  gone  to  spend 
the  summer  with  her  parents  at  Winthrop. 

She  had  spent  many  fruitless  hours  in  trying  to 
persuade  me  to  accompany  her,  but  to  no  result. 

"  When  I  have  twenty  thousand,  and  not  before," 
was  my  most  pliable  answer  to  her  entreaties. 

We  were  to  meet  again  in  the  fall,  on  her  return 
to  New  Boston  ;  but  meanwhile  I  was  to  stem  the 
tide  alone.  ^ 

As  I  could  now  move  about  at  less  expense,  I 
proposed  in  Lotta's  absence  to  visit  and  prospect 
some  of  the  cities  in  the  near  West. 

A  bright  early  spring  evening  found  me  in  Troy, 
N.Y.,  where,  at  the  American  House,  I  met  three 
New  Boston  parties  who  were  returning  from  a 
Western  tour. 


"^ 


!i' 


8  .Witli 


11 


3,  THAT  YOUNG  MAN.  . 

They  were  young  men  of  rather  doubtful  habits, 
yet  of  good  standing  in  society.  Their  prestige  in 
the  latter  respect  was  due  to  the  good  name  of 
their  parents,  rather  than  to  any  good  qualities  of 

their  own. 

I  had  never  sown  any  wild  oats  up  to  that  even- 
ing. A  youth  full  of  energetic  struggles  after 
^d'ucation,  a  husband  at  nineteen,  and  the  faithful, 
devoted.  Christian  Lotta  to  guide  my  steps,  I  had 
walked  morally  in  wisdom's  ways  up  to  that  hour. 

We  spent  some  ten  days  together,  in  which  per- 
haps the  most  wicked  of  our  deeds  was  the  foolish 
expenditure  of  money. 

'  •  Each  of  my  companions  ran  out  of  funds,  and 

'     borrowed  of  me  in  turn,  until,  to  accommodate  the 

•     last,  I  equally  divided  my  remaining  fifty  dollars. 

Thiy  were,  however,  looking  for  a  draft  in  an  early 

mail ;  and  I  was  not  the  man  to  deny  them. 

I  hate  the  memories  of  this  Troy  affair,  and  will 
pass  lightly  over  it.  It  left  me  with  eight  dollars, 
and  a  hotel-bill  wh=-h  was  not  paid  till  a  later  date, 

as  we  shall  see. 

My  New  Boston  aiends  had  left.  Fortunately 
for  them,  they  had  through  tickets.  Before  leav- 
ing, they  agreed  to  remit  my  dues  tp  Chicago,  but 


i.jji),  mi),  iiiif imi-1.1- H'-^WJ'^  ' 


THAT  YOUNG  MAN. 


H 


oub^ful  habits, 
leir  prestige  in 
good  name  of 
od  qualities  of 

3  to  that  even- 
struggles  after 
nd  the  faithful, 
my  steps,  I  had 
)  to  that  hour, 
r,  in  which  per- 
was  the  foolish 

it  of  funds,  and 
:commodate  the 
ing  fifty  dollars, 
draft  in  an  early 
ny  them. 
)y  affair,  and  will 
ith  eight  dollars, 
\  till  a  later  date, 

eft.  Fortunately 
;ts.  Before  leav- 
s  tp  Chicago,  but 


failed  to  perform ;  and  this  was  my  first  grand 
lesson  that  companions  in  sin  cannot  be  trusted. 

Alone  with  my  eight  dollars,  I  wande.ed  out  to 
Oakwood  Cemetery,  —  one  of  the  most  beautiful 
spots  on  the  continent.  There,  alone  with  the 
gravestones,  I  composed  a  little  poem  to  Lotta, 
which  she  still  holds  among  other  relics  of  days 
forever  gone. 

My  eight  dollars  carried  me  to  Buffalo.     When 
I  arrived  it  was  early  dawn,  and  I  possessed  nei- 
ther money  nor  baggage ;   nor  had    I,  as   I    then 
thought,  a  single  friend  or  acquaintance  in  the  city. 
This  statement  is  hardly  correct ;  for  I  stepped 
from    the    train   with    a    single    quarter    in    my 
pocket,  but  had   not  gone   two  blocks  on   Main 
Street  before  I  came  up  to  a  blind  man  faithfully 
turning  away  at  a  hand-organ,  gritiding  out  "  Yan- 
kee Dooc'^e." 

The  presence  of  this  enterprising  Italian,  at  such 
an  early  hour,  filled  me  with  a  peculiar  inspiration. 
Before  fully  realizing  what  I  was  about,  that  last 
quarter  fell  musically  upon  th.;  tin  plate,  and  the 
thankful  organist  bowed  me  a  "  God  bless  you  ! " 

"A  fit  subject  for  God's  blessing,  surely!"  I 
thought,  as  I  walked  up  town.  -    - 


84 


THAT  YOUNG  MAN. 


r- 


Entering  the  leading  hotel,  I  washed,  combed, 
and  brushed,  all  without  incurring  liabilities  be- 
yond my  means.  Then,  with  a  wishful  glance  into 
the  breakfast-hall,  I  turned  my  steps  into  the 
street,  hungry  and  penniless,  but  not  discouraged. 
There  was  a  romance  in  the  situation  which  lent  a 
charm  even  to  hunger. 

"I  have  never  had  such  an  experience;  but 
surely  I  can  survive  the  wat.t  of  a  single  breakfast, 
and  before  noon  something  will  turn  up."  Thus 
soliloquizing  I  walked  slowly,  not  knowing  where. 

At  ten  o'clock  I  rang  the  bell  at  a  large  and  well- 
appointed  Delaware  Avenue  boarding-house,  and 
was  condvcted  to  the  parior,  where  a  short,  thin- 
skinned  little  man  came  in,  and  offered  to  hear  my 

errand. 

In  a  few  words  I  told  him  frankly  my  situation : 
that  I  had  seen  better  days,  that  my  baggage  was 
detained  at  Troy,  and  that  my  last  quarter  had 
been  honorably  expended. 

"But,"  I  concluded,  "give  me  the  cheapest  room 
you  have  in  the  house,  and  by  Saturday  night  I 
shall  have  earned  the  money, to  meet  the  bill."    . 

"We  cannot  accommodate  you,  sir.  Our  terms 
are  invariably  cash  in  advance,"  he  answered,  lead- 
ing  the  way  to  the  door. 


'•Kr''!>r'!''rr'^ 


THAT  YOUNG  MAN. 


n 


shed,  combed, 
liabilities  be- 
iful  glance  into 
steps  into  the 
ot  discouraged, 
on  which  lent  a 

xperience ;  but 
single  breakfast, 
irn  up."  Thus 
nowirg  where, 
a  large  and  well- 
ding-house,  and 
re  a  short,  thln- 
[ered  to  hear  my 

:ly  my  situation : 
my  baggage  was 
last  quarter  had 

le  cheapest  room 
Saturday  night  I 
;et  the  bill."    . 
I,  sir.    Our  terms 
e  answered,  lead- 


It  required  a  little  bracing  up  of  the  moral  and 
physical  nerves  to  repel  thi-, ;  but  1  braced  up  ?.A 
walked  out,  remembering  that  the  terms  of  mjr 
journal  consisted  of  a  part  of  his  reply,  "term$ 
cash,  invariably  in  advance,"  but  in  my  case  the 
motto  had  not  been  strictly  adhered  to. 

Half  a  block  farther  on,  but  on  the  opposite  side, 
I  ventured  to  make  another  attempt. 

A  kind,  good-natured-looking  lady  of  about  forty 
showed  me  several  rooms,  but  I  managed  to  be  a 
little  displeased  with  them  all. 

"  I  have  come  to  take  a  position  as  local  editor 
on  one  of  your  leading  daily  papers,  and  wish  a 
nice  home-like  room,"  I  said   in  an  independent 

manner. 

"  Well,"  she  replied,  "  I  have  a  magnificent  suite 
on  the  lower  floor,  but  I  shall  have  to  charge  you 
twelve  a  week." 

I  followed  her  to  those  rooms,  and  threw  myself 
into  an  easy-chair  with  a  princely  dignity. 

"  These  will  do  :  what  are  your  meal  hours  ? " 
fo.  I  was  hungry. 

The  bargain  over,  I  straightened  up,  and  said,— 

"  I  will  go  to  the  depot  for  my  trunk,  and  will  re- 
turn in  season  for  dinner.  Shall  I.  pay  you  a  week's 
board  now  ?  "  ' 


Hi 


^  ;»,;*,. 


gg  7-/7-4  7"  YOUNG  MAN. 

..  Oh.  no !  at  the  end  of  the  week  will  be  quite 
satisfactory,  sir."  she  replied,  with  an  expression  of 
womanly  courtesy. 

One  hour  later  I  was  made  sub  city-editor  of  the 
foremost  daily  journal  in  the  city,  to  relieve  an  old 
friend,  whom  I  unexpectedly  met,  and  who  desired 
to  take  a  short  vacation. 

After  the  necessary  information  had  been  given 
me  by  the  departing  editor,  and  just  before  he  with- 
drew, I  took  him  one  side,  and  whispered, - 
"  Se6  here,  Foster,  I  am  strapped,  and  "  — 
"  Not  another  word  :  how  much  ? "  and  he  un- 
rolled a  small  package  of  tens  as  he  urged  his 

answer. 

"  Ten  dollars  till  Saturday." 
He  gave  me  fifteen,  and  was  out  of  the  room  be 
fore  I  had  time  to  thank  him. 

At  one  o'clock,  or  a  little  after,  I  took  a  hearty 
dinner  at  my  new  boarding-house,  and  then,  with- 
drawing to  my  rooms,  I  beckoned  the  good  landlady 
to  follow.    Closing  the  door  after  me,  I  explained 
how  my  trunks  had  (not)  been  carried  on  to  Chica- 
go by  mistake,  and  added  that  it  was  embarrassing 
to  be  in   a  strange  boarding-house  without  bag- 
gage ;  and,  holding  out  the  fifteen  dollars,  pressed 
her  to  take  out  a  week's  board. 


THAT  YOUNG  MAN. 


H 


will  be  quite 
I  expression  of 

y-editor  of  the 
relieve  an  old 
id  who  desired 

lad  been  given 
before  he  with- 
jpered,  — 
I,  and  "  — 
?"  and  he  un- 
s  he  urged  his 


of  the  room  be 

I  took  a  hearty 
;,  and  then,  with- 
;he  good  landlady 
me,  I  explained 
ried  on  to  Chica- 
iras  embarrassing 
ise  without  bag- 
1  dollars,  pressed 


Sh5  promptly  declined,  and  assured  me  that  it 
was  entirely  unnecessary.  ,         . , 

"  I  am  perfectly  satisfied  if  you  are,"  she  said  : 
«  your  appearance  is  all  I  want.  I  wish  I  had  every 
room  in  the  house  filled  with  such  men.  Make 
known  your  wants  freely,  and  I  will  try  to  make 
you  feel  athome  ;"  and  thus  the  little  woman  lee 
tured  me  into  inexpressible  happiness. 


_*i 


88 


HI  AT  YOUNG  MAN. 


CHAPTER  XI. 


THROUGH  this  short  spell  of  "subbing"  at 
Buffalo,  I  managed  to  send  for  and  receive 
my  trunk,  and  complete  the  journey  to  a  well-known 
Western  metropolis. 

On  reaching  my  destination,  I  wrote  to  Lotta, 
picturing  the  grandest  prospects,  and  pointing  her 
to  a  near  future  greatness  that  would  more  than  re- 
dress all  our  woes.  Yet  at  the  same  time  I  had  but 
four  cents  in  the  world,  and  pot  so  much  as  the 
faintest  promise  of  any  thing  tangible  ;  but  I  had  a 
courage  which  knew  no  such  thin^  as  failure. 

This  was  no  time  for  doubt  or  trembling,  but  an 
hour  for  bold  resolve.  A  mere  situation  at  twenty 
or  thirty  a  week  would  not  satisfy  me ;  and,  if  it 
would,  such  could  not  have  been  easily  obtained. 

My  slight  newspaper  experience  was  now  to  be 
thoroughly  tested.  Light  seemed  to  be  dawning 
through  the  windows  of  hope  looking  in  that  direc- 
tion. 


n 


THAT  YOUNG  MAN. 


8» 


"subbing"  at 
31  and  receive 
o  a  well-known 

Tote  to  Lotta, 
d  pointing  her 
i  more  than  re- 
time I  had  but 
0  much  as  the 
lie  ;  but  I  had  a 
IS  failure, 
imbling,  but  an 
ation  at  twenty 

me  ;  and,  if  it 
3ily  obtained, 
was  now  to  be 

to  be  dawning 
ng  in  that  direc- 


VVith  a  fondness  for  the  profession,  and  the  rec- 
ollections of  my  victory  over  Henderson  fresh  in 
mcnjory,  I  made  another  attempt  newspaper-ward. 

iVfter  climbing  three  flights  of  stairs,  and  making 
my  way  into  the  dingy  editorial  department  of 
"  The  Daily  Paragraph,"  I  thus  introduced  myself 
and  the  subject  nearest  my  heart  to  the  editor  and 
proprietor,  of   wlwm   and   whose  busii  I   had 

already  learned  much  :  — 

"  Good-day,  Mr.  Danolson.  My  name  is  Clark- 
son.  I  am  from  the  East;  and  with  some  news- 
paper experience  I  come  this"  way  to  cast  my  lot 

,  among  you." 

Mr.  Danelson  looked  me  over ;  and,  relieving  a 
chair  near  at  hand  of  a  bundle  of  exchanges,  offered 
me  a  seat,  without  a  response  of  any  kind. 

"  Excuse  me  for  troubling  you ;  but  an  acquaint- 
ance here  directed  me  to  you  for  the  information  I 
need,  knowing,  as  he  said,  that  you  were  well  posted 
concerning  the  wants  and  needs  of  every  journal 

in  the  city." 

A  smile  of  satisfaction  irradiated  his  long,  hag- 
gard face,  at  this  inspirational  compliment.  I  con- 
tinued, — 

"Now,  excuse  me,  w"--   I   am  a  live  man,  and 


90 


THAT  YOUNG  MAN. 


understand  the  newspaper  business  to  a  T  ;  and  I'll 
tell  you  what  I  want  to  fnv,!.     Tell  me,  if  you  please, 
where   there  is  a  journal  in   this  city  with   the 
bare  possibilities  of  success  before  it,  but  with  the 
difficulties  of  an  empty  cash-drawer,  a  pooradver- 
tising  patronage,  and  a  good  list  of  pressing  debts  all 
around  it.     Pardon  my  blunt  way  of  putting  thmgs, 
Mr.  Danelson.  but  I  wish  to  offer  my  services  to 
such  an  establishment  '.n  these   terms:  fifty  dol- 
lars  a  week  salary  if    .    bring  in  one  hundred  a 
week  for  the  paper  on  my  own  work,  and  nothing  if 
I  come  short  of  this  amount." 

rknew  right  well  that  I  had  already  found  the 
nev/span'T  establishment  which  I  was  describing, 
and  h  id  con. :  .0  it  fully  posted  regarding  its  finan- 
cial       .itic  1  _    ; 

T.-,r,elsonwas  a  man  of  curious  characteristics. 
Being  deeply  in  debt,  he  had  grown  nervous  over 
the  continual  dunning  which  besieged  his  office, 
and  was  ripe  for  just  such  an  offer. 

He  turned  his  face  towards  me  with  a  curious 

smile,  and  asked,  — 

"  How  do  you  propose,  to  bring  to  any  newspaper 
one  hundred  dollars  a  week,  Mr.  Clarkson  ? " 

"  T  understand  my  business,"  was  all  the  reply  ^ 

made. 


fn 


I  T  ;  and  I'll 
f  you  please, 
ty  with   the 
but  with  the 
I  poor'advcr- 
sing  debts  all 
itting  things, 
y  services  to 
ns:  fifty  dol- 
le  hundred  a 
ind  nothing  if 

uly  found  the 
IS  describing, 
Jing  its  finan- 


haracteristics. 

nervous  over 

Ted  his  office, 


vith  a  curious 

any  newspaper 

rkson  ? " 

all  the  reply  I 


-SEJr5?SEH^^5^^^E«1^'''?S?e^'KE 


si^5?!^««SW¥S5fflW  .'«^" 


r 


i~^Uiffii.iri»aii'j^ii j^-g-tw-  -1  T^^  "f*^-  viM '.  Vi  •,>- frriHiijtfi'-iJM'rrt '.iiVTTniYf- 


^r^"*" 

"> 


Photographic 

Sdences 

Corporation 


23  WEST  MAIN  STREET 

WEBSTER,  N.V.  14580 

(716)872-4503 


CIHM/ICMH 

Microfiche 

Series. 


CIHIVI/ICIVIH 
Collection  de 
microfiches. 


Canadian  Institute  for  Historical  Microreproductions  /  institut  Canadian  de  microreproductions  historiques 


THAT  YOUNG  MAN. 


9» 


He  took  in  my  meaning  at  once,  and  withdrew 
with  me  to  a  private  office,  where  we  made  con- 
siderable talk,  and  whence  I  emerged  two  hours 
later,  as  managing  editor  of  "  The  Daily  Paragraph," 
at  a  salary  of  fifty  dollars  a  week,  payable  by  my- 
self on  the  conditions  before  mentioned. 

I  assumed  charge  with  unusual  display,  and 
ordered  the  foreman  of  the  composing-room,  who 
was  a  son  of  the  proprietor,  to  change  the  "  make- 
up," which  order  he  was  forced  to  observe  without 
any  good  reasons  for  the  change,  which  he  desired 

me  to  give. 

Mr.  Danelson  wished  to  give  me  a  fair  trial,  and 
humored  my  most  imperious  orders,  giving  all  about 
the  office  to  understand  that  I  must  be  obeyed. 

Chapman  and  Gorham  were  the  proprietors  of 
two  of  the  most  elegant  "sample-room"  establish- 
ments in  the  metropolis  ;  and  I  discovered  that  the 
faro-departments  of  these  concerns  paid  large  but 
unlawful  dividends. 

An  Eastevn  gentleman  stopping  at  my  hotel  had 
been  victimized  and  robbed  of  three  hundred  dol- 
lars in  one  of  these  places,  and,  although  half  as 
much  to  blame  as  his  deceivers  were,  was  quite 
ready  to  expose  their  viUany ;  and  through  his  kind 


I 


wiip»e»  ipW*JWP;v^''-^  IJ/tJ  't?/'  T.?? 


92 


THAT  YOUNG  MAN. 


offices  I  was  enabled  to  gain  admittance  to  several 
of  these  dens. 

Here  I  witnessed  some  of  the  sharpest  transac- 
tions of  which  the  human  intellect,  supported  by 
Satanic  inspiration,  is  capable. 

More  than  twenty  of  the  scenes  of  that  night, 
which  came  to  my  knowledge,  are  worth  describ- 
ing, but  I  will  venture  but  one  of  these  briefly  :  — 
A  middle-aged  man  had  come  to  the  city  by  a 
train  arriving  at  eight  o'clock,  p.m.  ;  and  with  only 
a  light  valise  he  started  to  walk  from  the  depot  to 
his  hotel,  ii  preference  to  riding.  A  sharper  met 
him  with  a  familiar,  — ■ 

"  How  do  you  do,  Gov.  Hall  "i  Why,  you  are  a 
stranger  in  these  parts!"  And,  acting  out  his 
words,  he  shook  the  stranger's  hand  warmly. 

"  Beg  your  pardon,  sir.  I  am  not  Gov.  Hall :  you 
are  mistaken."  And  he  withdrew  his  hand  in  em- 
barrassment. 

The  sharper  excused  himself,  but  could  not  easily 
satisfy  his  mind  that  two  men  could  look  so  much 
alike.  His  apparent  mistake  offered  occasion  for  a 
little  further  conversation,  in  which  he  learned  all 
he  could  about  the  stranger,  his  name,  residence, 
and  the  names  of  certain  parties  residing  there. 


THAT  YOUNG  MAN. 


93 


ice  to  several 

rpest  transac- 
supported  by 

of  that  night, 
worth  describ- 
;se  briefly :  — 
the  city  by  a 
and  with  only 
1  the  depot  to 
!\  sharper  met 

^hy,  you  are  a 
cting    out    his 
warmly. 
}ov.  Hall :  you 
is  hand  in  em- 

:ould  not  easily 
look  so  much 

i  occasion  for  a 
he  learned  all 

ame,  residence, 

iding  there. 


They  parted  ;  and  the  stranger  walked  on  to- 
wards his  hotel,  when,  a  few  minutes  later,  he  was 
accosted  by  another  sharper,  who,  having  been 
posted  by  the  first  one,  not  only  knew  his  name, 
but  much  which,  and  to  all  appearances,  evidenced 
that  he  was  an  old  acquaintance.     He  began,  — 

"  Good-evening,  Capt.  Hart.  Glad  to  see  you. 
When  did  you  leave  New  Britain  >.  " 

He  managed  to  convince  the  captain  that  he  was 
an  old  friend  ;  said  he  was  on  his  way  to  St. 
Louis;  and  then  pulled  out  a  lottery-ticket,  with 
this  remark,  — 

"  Here  is  a  lottery-ticket  which  I  bought  from  a 
fellow  out  of  a  joke,  nearly  a  year  ago,  in  New  Brit- 
ain ;  and  I  am  told  this  evening  that  I  have  drawn 
five  hundred  dollars,  and  am  on  my  way  to  the 
office  where  it  is  to  be  paid.  Would  you  care  to 
come  over  to  see  whether  or  not  it  is  real  or  a 

sham?" 

The  captain  consented  readily.  In  a  room  ad- 
joining the  faro-hall,  the  two  men  presented  them- 
selves, and  the  sharper  handed  in  his  ticket. 

A  clerk  (for  such  he  appeared)  brought  down  a 
ponderous  ledger,  and  looked  for  the  number  of  the 
ticket,  through  a  pair  of  glasses,  in  a  dignified  man- 
ner. 


96 


THAT  YOUNG  MAN. 


a   wealthy  German    citizen,   desired    to    become 
mayor ;  then  came  a  happy  thought. 

There  could  be  no  slipshod  work  in  this  transac- 
tion, with  any  hope  of  success.  Shintzenstein  was 
a  shrewd  man,  and  knew  well  how  to  make  the 
best  use  of  his  means.  Any  enterprise  to  which 
he  lent  his  assistance  must  either  be  for  his  own  or 
the  public's  good ;  but  withal  he  had  a  kind  heart, 
and  knew  well  how  to  appreciate  and  return  a 
favor. 


:d    to    become 

in  this  transac- 
intzenstein  was 
N  to  make  the 
-prise  to  which 
2  for  his  own  or 
id  a  kind  heart, 
;  and  return  a 


/        T//Ar  YOUNG  MAN. 


m 


CHAPTER  XII. 

MY  plans  once  mature,  I  put  up  the  name  of 
Shintzenstein  as  a  candidate  for  mayor,  and 
succeeded  in  publishing  a  long  list  of  respectable 
signers  to  a  petition  calling  on  him  to  come  forward 
as  a  candidate. 

Thus  for  two  weeks  I  worked  hard  and  faithfully, 
and  did  much  to  increase  his  popularity.  He  was 
a  man  whose  reputation  would  bear  advertising. 

Considerable  time  passed  in  this  way  before  we 
met.  At  last  he  determined  to  see  with  his  own 
eyes  the  man  who  was  volunteering  this  service, 
and  he  paid  me  a  visit. 

I  was  delighted  to  see  him,  but  wore  an  air  of 
strange  independence  which  puzzled  him.  He  sub- 
scribed for  the  paper,  paying  one  year  in  advance. 
But  this  did  not  satisfy  him  ;  and,  as  he  withdrew, 
he  slipped  a  one-hundred-dollar  bank-note  in  the 
hand  he  pressed. 


IP 


iiiii.>  mmummmm^^ 


98 


r///IT  YOUNG  MAN. 


I  passed  it  over  to  Danelson,  and  requested 
another  week's  salary.  He  laughed  in  a  curious 
undertone,  but  complied. 

Here  was  no  slight  evidence  of  the  success  of 
my  plans.    I  was  marching  to  the  heart  of  Shintz- 
enstcin   through  his  generous   impulses,  and  the 
force  that  impelled  me  was  faithful  service. 
•  With  careful  manipulation  I  progressed  step  by 
step,  witnessing  daily  manifestations  of  my  prog- 
ress. .      ,     ,  •  u       «. 
At  this  juncture,  an  event  transpired  which  set 

the  wheels  of  fortune  turning  rapidly  in  my  favor. 
The  editor  who  had  been  discharged  to  make  room 
for  me  had  purchased  a  number  of  outstanding 
claims  against  the  paper,  to  which  he  had  added 
his  own.  and  entered  suit.  A  judgment  had  been 
granted,  and  the  morning  had  come  for  its  execu- 

tion,  ,    ,  .  . 

Danelson  had  kept  a  knowledge  of  this  event 
from  me,  for  a  purpose.     He  probably  did  not  care 
"     to  trust  me  with  such  information,  and  his  meas- 
urement of  me  in  this  instance  was  half  correct.^ 
"What  is  going  to  be  done,  Mr.  Danelson?    1 

asked  excitedly.  .   , 

« I  have  a  friend  who  will  buy  the  office  m,   he 


J 


THAT  YOUNG  MAN. 


99 


and   requested 
;d  in  a  curious 

f  the  success  of 
heart  of  Shintz- 
pulses,  and  the 
service. 

)gressed  step  by 
•ns  of  my  prog- 

ispired  which  set 
•idly  in  my  favor. 
;ed  to  make  room 
r  of  outstanding 
ch  he  had  added 
ilgment  had  been 
Dme  for  its  execu- 

Ice  of  this  event 
bably  did  not  care 
on,  and  his  meas- 
tras  half  correct. 
Mr.  Danelson  ? "  I 

iT  the  office  in,"  he 


answered  in  a  whisper ;  for  the  deputy-sheriff  had 
already  entered. 

I  blamed  myself  furiously  that  all  this  could 
have  transpired  under  my  very  nose  without  my 
knowing  it,  but  flew  over  to  Shintzenstcin's ;  and, 
in  fifteen  minutes,  he  had  authorized  me  to  bid  as 
high  as  fifteen  hundred,  saying  he  would  hand  me  a 
check  for  the  amount  if  I  succeeded. 

I  returned  to  the  office  to  find  the  sheriff  stand- 
ing on  my  table,  the  quill  pens  smashing  under  his 
number-ten  boots,  and  crying  fitfully,— 

"Three  hundred  I'm  bid;  three  hundred  I'm 
bid  ;  three  hundred,  three  hundred ! " 

It  was  raised  to  five  hundred,  five  fifty,  six,  and 
six  fifty ;  and  it  soon  became  evident  that  Danel- 
son's  financial  friend  had  a  formidable  opponent 
in  the  ex-editor's  right-hand  man. 

Finally  the  latter  bid  nine  hundred  ;  and  Danel- 
son's  friend  withdrew,  saying  he  could  not  risk  any 
more.  The  excited  proprietor  walked  the  floor  in 
great  excitement. 

"Nine    hundred,  thin'    ind  last  time;    going, 

and"  — 

"  One  thousand  1 "  I  said  in  a  decided  voice. 
AH  eyes  were  turned  towards  me.    The  sheriff 


,00  THAT  YOUNG  MAN. 

was  astonished,  and  Danclson  grew  impatient,  and 

asked, — 

"  What  docs  this  mean  ? " 
"  I  mean  to  save  your  paper."         v 
"  For  mc  ? "  he  demanded  in  a  high  pitch. 
"  No :  for  Fred  and  myself." 
Fred  was  his  son,  the  foreman  before  referred 
to,  an  open-hearted,  honest  young  man,  who  had 
become  my  most  intimate  friend. 

Danclson  resigned    himself,  and,  at   his  son's 
advice,  walked  away. 

"  One  thousand,  third  and  last  time  ;  and  sold  — 
to  whom  ? "  shouted  the  official  auctioneer. 

"To  Jean  Clarkson,"  I  responded.  "The  money 
is  ready  as  soon  as  the  papers  can  be  made  out." 

Jean  Clarkson  &  Co.  were  the  proprietors  of 
"The  Paragraph"  thereafter;  and,  under  that 
management,  its  patronage  soon  became  self-sus- 
taining. We  failed  in  electing  Shintzenstein,  but 
had  been  well  paid  for  faithful  service. 

"The  Paragraph"  finally  became  a  fixed  institu- 
tion, established  on  a  paying  basis;  and  I  was 
about  to  start  to  meet  Lotta,  that  she  might  enjoy 
the  happy  lot  with  me. 

Arrangements  had  been  completed  for  furniture, 


A^. 


!W  impatient,  and 


high  pitch. 

in  before  referred 
ng  man,  who  had 

ind,  at   his  son's 


TftAT  YOUNG  MAN. 


XOI 


and  a  lease  signed  for  a  beautiful  little  house  in 
the  West  Division,  when  on  that  eventful  Sunday 
night,  memorable  to  all  the  world,  the  blasting 
flame  swept  into  ruin,  not  only  every  vestige  of 
"The  Paragraph,"  but  three-quarters  of  a  mighty 
commercial  metropolis. 


time;  and  sold  — 

uctioneer. 

kd.    "  The  money 

,n  be  made  out." 

the  proprietors  of 

and,   under    that 
1  became  self-sus- 

Shintzenstein,  but 

srvice. 

ime  a  fixed  institu- 
basis ;  and  I  was 
lat  she  might  enjoy 


Dieted  for  furniture, 


r" 


I03 


T/Ur  YOUNG  MAN. 


I 
I 


CHAPTER  XIII.      . 

ALL  night  long,  and  part  of  the  following  day, 
with  many  a  thousand  more,  I  marched  be- 
fore the  on-sweeping,  all-consuming  flames  of  that 
mighty  conflagration.  The  cries  of  alarm,  groans 
of  sorrow,  and  shrieks  of  dying  mortals,  of  that 
awful  night,  still  live  in  my  soul,  never  to  be 

effaced. 

Monday  noon  I  ate  my  soup  in  St.  Ann's  Church, 
with  thousands,  all  of  whom  were  penniless  and 
homeless.  The  scenes  of  the  previous  evening  had 
forced  the  conclusion  upon  me,  that  but  little  in 
this  life  was  abiding. 

On  Sunday  I  had  within  my  control  the  means 
of  an  apparently  permanent  livelihood.  AH  had 
vanished  in  a  few  brief  hours  ;  but  around  me  were 
so  many,  who,  being  left  in  the  same  condition, 
were  less  able  to  overcome  it,  that  I  no  longer 
lamented. 


THAT  YOUNG  MAN. 


103 


V. 


I.  V 

he  following  day, 
re,  1  marched  be- 
ng  flames  of  that 
3  of  alarm,  groans 
g  mortals,  of  that 
soul,  never  to  be 

St.  Ann's  Church, 
rere  penniless  and 
evious  evening  had 
J,  that  but  little  in 

control  the  means 
ivelihood.  AH  had 
DUt  around  me  were 
he  same  condition, 
,  that  I  no  longer 


"  How  can  I  turn  this  mighty  calamity  to  ac- 
count ? "  was  a  question  which  I  had  put  to  myself, 
and  satisfactorily  answered,  before  the  fire  had 
driven  me  across  the  North  River  on  the  previous 
night ;  and  I  hud  already  entered  upon  the  execu- 
tion  of  a  plan  with  that  end  in  view. 

In  the  midst  of  the  crowd  I  felt  a  friendly  tap 
upon  my  shoulder.  I  turned,  and  grasped  the  hand 
of  Fred  Danelson,  my  late  partner,  whose  face  had 
been  badly  singed  in  an  encounter  with  the  flames. 
"  God  bless  you,  Fred !  I  was  never  so  glad  to 
see  a  man  in  my  life  ; "  and  I  held  his  hand,  with 
deep  emotion,  restraining  my  tears. 

There  were  men  weeping  that  day,  whose  eyes 
had  never  before  given  such  evidence  of  the  heart's 

unrest. 

"  We  are  all  saved,  thank  God  for  that !  but  we 
are  all  penniless,  homeless,  and  discouraged,"  re- 
sponded Fred,  weeping  like  a  schoolboy  under 
severe  punishment.  *. 

"  Brace  up,  old  boy,"  I  said,  still  holding  his 
hand,  but  leading  him  out  of  the  crowd,  that  we 
might  not  hear  the  sighs  and  groans,  or  witness  the 
tears,  of  the  sorrowing  multitude. 

"  Fred,"  I  continued,  "  I  will  give  you  twenty-five 


...jjia«,j-i 


r.i! 


104 


THAT  yOU^G  MAN. 


dollars  a  week  and  railroad  fare,  for  eight  weeks,  to 
do  a  certain  honorable  work  for  me  ;  and  I  want 
you  to  start  to-day  :  will  you  engage  ?  " 

"  I  am  at  your  command  on  easier  terms,"  he  re- 
plifed.     "  But  what  is  to  be  the  nature  of  my  work  ?  " 

I  posted  him  :  — 

"  You  are  to  leave  town  this  afternoon,  and  make 
a  trip  to  the  East.  Your  progress  will  be  slow,  and 
on  this  wise  :  Announce  me  to  lecture  in to- 
morrow evening.  You  will  be  able  to  do  all  the 
advertising  yet  this  evening,  as  you  reach  there  by 
four  o'clock.  Leave  late  in  the  evening,  or  early 
in  the  morning,  for  the  next  town,  and  announce 
me  for  that  place  for  Wednesday  evening ;  and  so 
on  every  evening  in  the  week.  Zigzag  latitudinally 
as  you  progress,  so  as  to  take  in  a  wide  range  of 
towns,  and  keep  in  daily  communication  v/ith  me 
by  telegraph.  Don't  wait  f^r  mail  communication. 
Here  is  a  circular,  which  print  as  a  dodger  in  each 
town,  flooding  the  streets  with  them  ;  also"  publish 
it  in  all  the  papers  ;  and,  when  occasion  will  admit, 
have  it  read  from  the  pulpits.  You  will  be  able  to 
secure  churches  in  some  plac  ,  perhaps,  where 
there  ^tre  no  halls.    Leave  all  bills  for  me  to  pay, 


THAT  YOUNG  MAN. 


"OS 


eight  weeks,  to 
ic  ;  and  I  want 

r  terms,"  he  re- 
e  of  my  work  ?  " 

noon,  and  make 
ivill  be  slow,  and 

:ture  in to- 

le  to  do  all  the 
reach  there  by 
vening,  or  early 
,  and  announce 
vening ;  and  so 
zag  latitudinally 
I  wide  range  of 
ication  with  me 
communication, 
dodger  in  each 
m  ;  also"  publish 
ision  will  admit, 
I  will  be  able  to 
perhaps,  where 
for  me  to  pay, 


even  your  hotel  expenses.  And  here  is  an  order 
that  will  enable  you  to  act  on  this  advice."  Thus 
ended  my  instructions. 

This  venture  had  been  suggested  to  me  during 
the  awful  night  previous,  by  some  friendly  spirit ; 
and  I  had  been  mentally  studying  my  lecture  for 
twelve  hours,  in  the  very  presence  of  the  ghastly 
scenes  which  I  was  to  describe. 

The  letter  of  introduction  for  my  advance  agent 
had  already  been  written.     It  ran  as  follows,  — 

Amid  the  Flambs,  Oct.  9, . 

To  Hall  Agents,  Hotel  Proprietory,  Printers,  Publishers, 
and  all  whom  it  may  concern. 

All  debts  contracted  by  the  bearer,  Mr.  Danelson,  in  any 
way  in  behalf  of  my  lecturing  tour,  will  be  paid  by  me  on 
my  annval.    Render  him  all  the  assistance  you  can. 

In  haste, 

Jean  Clarkson, 
Late  Editor  and  Proprietor  "  Daily  Paragraph^'' 

The  circular  or  advertisement,  which  had.  also 
been  prepared  to  save  time,  ran  as  follows  :  — 

Ruined  Chicago  —  A  Lecture  ! 
The  people  of will  be  glad  to  learn,  that  on • 


io6 


THAT  YOUNG  MAN. 


evenin,?,  in  the hall,  Mr.  Jean  Clarkson,  a  well-known 

Chicago  journalist,  and  a  lecturer  of  marked  eloquence  and 
ability,  will  deliver  his  most  thrilling  discourse,  entitled 
"  aiicago  in  Flames."  The  learned  and  distinguished  speaker 
will  portray  the  whole  disaster  in  the  full  strength  of  his 
wonderful  talents.  In  tlie  midst  of  the  flames  from  the 
commencement  to  the  end  of  the  conflagration,  lie  will  speak 
from  personal  observation.  The  hall  will  no  doubt  be 
crowded.  General  admission,  twenty-five  cents ;  reserved 
seats,  twenty-five  cents  extra.  The  lecture  commences  at 
7.30,  P.M.,  precisely.  Mr.  Clarkson  comes  to  us  with  the  fol- 
lowing strong  indorsements. 

Here  followed  recommendations  from  ex-govern- 
ors, mayor.  Congressmen,  and  clergymen,  presi- 
dents of  universities,  &c.,  each  of  whom  I  had 
fortunately  met  during  the  morning,  and  from 
whom  I  had  received  at  my  earnest  solicitation 
these  much-needed  testimonials. 

One  of   these  recommendations  was  so  strong, 
■  so  unique,  and  so  characteristic  of  the  haste  and 
excitement  of  the  hour,  that  I  give  it  here  as  a 
"  relic  of  the  Chicago  fire : "  — 

"  Our  distinguished  and  beloved  citizen;  Mr.  Jean 

Clarkson,  a  journalist  distinguished  alike  for  his 

'  wit,  scholarship,  and  talents,  goes  to  you  on  this 


/. 


THAT  YOUNG  MAN. 


107 


Icson,  a  well-known 
rked  eloquence  and 
discourse,  entitled 
istinguished  speaker 
full  strength  of  his 
le  flames  from  the 
ration,  he  will  speak 
will  no  doubt  be 
ive  cents ;  reserved 
:ture  commences  at 
;s  to  us  with  the  fol« 


5  from  ex-govern- 
;lergymen,  presi- 
of  whom  I  had 
rning,  and  from 
rnest   solicitation 


s  was  so  strong, 
of  the  haste  and 
;ive  it  here  as  a 

I  citizen;  Mr.  Jean 
hed  alike  for  his 
s  to  you  on  this 


lecturing  tour  with  our  most  profound  sympathy. 
Extend  to  him  a  hearty  welcome." 

I  omit  the  signature  to  this  indorsement,  not 
because  the  distinguished  statesman  who  granted 
it  would  object  to  have  it  known  that  he  indorsed 
my  project,  but  because  he  wrote  it,  half  according 
to  "my  own  dictation,  while  the  flames  were  break- 
ing forth  in  mad  fury  within  a  hundred  feet  of  him, 
and  because  in  his  wild  excitement  he  knew  not 
what  he  wrote. 

"  You  are  a  marvel,  Jean.  I  positively  believe, 
that,  were  the  world  to  come  to  an  end  in  full 
accord  with  the  Puritan  faij:h,  you  would  go  off  lec- 
turing on  the  event  before  the  desperate  affair 
should  have  been  fairly  consummated,"  said  Fred, 
rolling  up  the  papers  I  had  given  him,  in  wonder 
and  amazement  at  the  maturity  of  my  plans,  while 
the  fire  was  still  raging  in  the  North  Division. 

"Be  off  at  once,  Fred.  Here  are  twenty-five 
dollars,  all  I  have  in  the  world,  but  I  will  trust  to 
borrowing  for  my  own  wants." 

Fred  left  me,  having  entered  fully  into  the  merits 
of  my  plans. 

Two  hours  latet  I  found  Shintzenstein  at  his 


io8 


THAT  YOUNG  MAN. 


m 


office.  Whilst  one  of  the  few  who  were  not  burned 
out,  he  was  not  without  his  trouble.  I  found  him 
walking  the  floor  frantically,  and  groaning  over  the 
loss  of  a  boy  of  whom  he  had  up  to  that  hour 
received  no  tidings. 

"Loan  me  fifty  dollars,  quick,  judge.  I  will 
return  it  in  ten  days." 

He  handed  me  seventy-five  in  a  mistake  in  the 
midst  of  his  grief ;  and  I  returned  the  surplus  with 
many  thanks,  and  retired. 

I  spent  the  evening  until  a  late  hour,  poring 
over  my  lecture,  with  the  aid  of  two  assistants, 
one  of  whom  had  made  some  reputation  as  a 
speaker  for  the  temperance  folks,  and  the  other  for 
the  cause  of  the  gospel. 

I  succeeded  in  framing  quite  an  attractive  de^ 
scription  of  such  scenes  as  would  be  most  heart- 
rending. Many  of  these  never  occurred,  but  all  of 
them  might  have,  and  should  have  in  order  to  give 
the  subject  all  the  variety  desirable  to  the  lecturer. 
At  ten  o'clock  I  received  the  following  telegram 
from  Fred :  — 

"You  are  to  lecture  here  to-morrow  night.  We  could 
pack  two  halls  and  three  churches  if  it  were  possible  to 
divide  yourself  up." 


I 


THAT  YOUNd  MAN. 


109 


•e  not  buined 

I  found  him 

ning  over  the 

to  that  hour 

idge.      I  will 


I  read  the  telegram  with  peculiar  satisfaction, 
and  then  and  there  decided  to  divide  up,  though  in 
a  somewhat  different  way. 

I  engaged  my  two  assistants  for  a  term  of  four 
weeks  each,  and  directed  them  to  meet  me  on  the 
following  morning  for  instructions. 


istake  in  the 
i  surplus  with 

hour,  poring 
ivo  assistants, 
lutation  as  a 
[  the  other  for 

attractive  de- 
le  most  heart- 
rred,  but  all  of 

order  to  give 
3  the  lecturer, 
iving  telegram 


ight.    We  could 
were  possible  to 


no 


THAT  YOUNG  MAN. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 


I  HAD  not  forgotten  Lotta.  She  was  more 
than  a  thousand  miles  away  ;  yet  the  wires  had 
probably  already  informed  her  of  the  fall  of  the 
city,  and  she  might  be  in  distress  concerning  my 

safety.      .  - 

It  was  Tuesday  morning.  I  had  made  ready  to 
depart  in  the  new  rdle  of  lecturer  ;  but,  before  leav- 
ing, I  sent  Lotta  the  following  telegram  :  — 

"  Chicago  flestroyed.  Start  on  a  lecturing  tour  eastward. 
Will  meet  you  at  New  Boston  about  Dec.  15.    Get  ready." 

The  train  did  not  leave  for  the  city  where  I  was 
to  lecture,  until  four  o'clock  in  the  afternoon ;  and 
during  the  day  J  perfected  my  plans  of  "  dividing 

up." 

In  a  lager-beer  saloon  in  the  West  Division,  —  for 
the  want  of  a  better  place,  —  seated  around  a  beer 
table,  my  assistants  and  I  continued  the  study  of 


THAT  YOUNG  MAX. 


Ill 


he  was  more 

the  wires  had 

le  fall  of  the 

oncerning  my 

made  ready  to 
ut,  before  leav- 
am :  — 

ig  tour  eastward. 
5.    Get  ready." 

ty  where  I  was 
ifternoon;  and 
s  of  "dividing 

Division,  —  for 
around  a  beer 
i  the  study  of 


our  lecture.  We  exchanged  notes,  until  each  was 
ready  to  wager  the  other  that  his  effort  would 
weigh  the  most. 

These  two  men,  well  known  in  the  field  of 
journalism  and  ta  the  temperance  and  gospel 
platforms,  had  now  come,  under  my  forceful  manip- 
ulations, into  an  engagement  to  personate  Jean 
Clarkson  on  a  lecturing  tour.  This  was  not  alto- 
gether right;  but  the  public  were  to  be  unharm- 
fully  deceived,  for  both  of  these  men  were  better 
and  more  experienced  speakers  than  myself. 

Securing  and  sending  out  advance  agents  for 
each  of  the  new-made  Clarksons,  all  armed  with 
copies  of  the  documents  given  to  Fred,  I  marked 
out  their  routes  ;  one  north  and  the  other  south  of, 
but  both  parallel  to,  my  own.  I  sent  out  with  each 
a  trusty  financial  agent,  who  was  to  look  after 
funds,  pay  the  bills,  and  report  progress  daily. 

With  wonderful  fortune  I  chanced  on  getting 
the  right  man  in  the  right  place  in  every  instance  ; 
and  thus  in  a  threefold  tide,  we  marched  eastward 
from  city  to  city,  crying  little  else  but  "Fire! 
fire  I "  to  crowded  houses ;  netting  in  the  aggregate 
from  three  to  five  hundred  dollars  a  night. 

The  telegrams  flew  swiftly,  both  latitudinally 


tI9 


THAT  YOUNG  MAN. 


and  longitudinally;  but  the  whole  lecture  corps, 
advance  agents,  financial  men,  and  the  Clarkson 
trinity,  moved  steadily  eastward. 

The  press  announced  our  coming,  for  consider- 
able distances  ahead,  and  thereby  secured  to  us  the 
field,  and  promoted  our  prosperity. 

I  reached  Cincinnati  on  a  Saturday  afternoon. 
Telegrams  were  awaiting  me  at  the  Burnett  House, 
announcing  my  arrival  at  Cleveland  and  Louisville, 
respectively.  '  ' 

One  of  the  largest  halls  in  the  Ohioan  metropo- 
lis had  been  secured,  and  the  city  was  anxious  to 
hear  my  lecture.  The  press  had  published  not 
only  the  circular  above  referred  to,  with  all  the 
indorsements,  but  extracts  from  various  papers 
on  our  trifold  route,  eulogizing  the  masterly  elo- 
quence of  the  now  celebrated  Jean  Clarkson. 

I  had  scarcely  reached  the  hotel  when  an  enter- 
prising divine  sent  his  card  to  my  room. 

"  Show  him  up,"  I  said  to  the  boy,  half  suspect- 
ing his  errand. 

"  Have  I  the  honor  of  meeting  Mr.  Clarkson  ? " 
he  asked,  giving  me  his  hand. 

"My  name  is  Clarkson,"  I  answered,  hoping 
that  no  such  misfortune  would  overtake  either  of 


THAT  YOUNG  MAN. 


"3 


lecture  corps, 
the   Clarkson 

g,  for  consider- 
cured  to  us  the 

rday  afternoon. 
Burnett  House, 
and  Louisville, 

hioan  metropo- 
was  anxious  to 
published  not 
0,  with  all  the 
various  papers 
t  masterly  elo- 
Zlarkson. 
when  an  enter- 
)om. 
y,  half  suspect- 

Ir.  Clarkson?" 

swered,  hoping 
:rtake  either  of 


the  northern  or  southern  extremities  of  my  indi- 
viduality. *      ■ 

♦•  I  want  you  to  come  and  preach  for  me  to-mor- 
row morning,"  he  said  in  a  good-natured  way. 

"  Preach  1" 

"Yes,  preach." 

" Preach t  Why,  sir,  you  are  crazy!  I  never 
did  such  a  thing ; "  and  my  astonishment  was  with- 
out bounds. 

"Well,  you  lecture,  and  I  see  you  are  an  able 
and  eloquent  speaker,  and  of  course  you  are  a 
Christian ;  and  why  not  come  over,  and  give  our 
folks  a  talk  ?  I  am  played  out :  beside's,  I  want  to 
get  out  a  full  house,  with  a  view  to  raising  a  bal- 
ance on  our  church  debt.  Yoiir  name  will  bring 
out  the  people,  and  you  can  talk  Chicago  fire  or 
what  you  like."    And  thus  he  pressed  his  case. 

I  bethought  me  of  my  spiritual  standing.  Lotta 
was  a  devoted  Christian,  but  I  could  not  stand  on 
that.  I  had  joined  the  church  when  a  mere  boy, 
but  had  lost  my  card  of  membership  in  more  senses 
than  one. 

"Well,"  I  said,  "if  you  will  do  the  praying,  I  will 
read  the  first  hymn,  and  talk  half  an  hour." 
"Agreed."    And  so  saying  he  left  me  to  study 


"♦ 


THAT  YOUNG  MAN. 


up  my  first  sermon.  I  studied  late,  and  remem- 
bered, as  I  retired,  how  doubtless  mine  was  not 
the  "first  sermon  ever  gotten  up  in  the  Burnett 

House. 

Sunday  morning  came.  The  divine  for  whom  I 
was  to  preach  called  on  his  way  to  the  church  ;  and 
as  we  walked  out  together  he  remarked,  that,  since 
the  day  was  beautiful,  the  announcements  would  in 
all  probability  more  than  fill  the  house. 

On  our  arrival  at  the  church,  we  found  it  quite 
as  he  had  remarked.  Chairs  had  been  carried  up 
from  the  vestry ;  and  the  aisles,  as  well  as  the  pews, 
were  crowded. 

I  read  the  hymn  in  a  ministerial  air,  and  he 
went  through  the  remaining  opening  exercises  in 
a  spirit  of  victory.  Preaching  hour  came.  He 
turned  his  face  to  me,  and  then  to  the  people,  and 

said,  — 

"I  have,  as  you  see,  prevailed  on  Mr.  Clarkson 
whom  you  all  know  in  connection  with  his  lec- 
ture—to talk  to  you  this  morning.  He  is  very 
anxious  that  all  present  may  understand  that  he 
does  not  preach,  and  will  not  on  this  occasion,  but 
will  say  a  few  words  as  may  suit  his  own  judg- 
ment," 


,  .aiifeliWMiiigW.i 


THAT  YOUNG  MAN. 


IIS 


:e,  and  remem- 

mine  was  not 

in  the  Burnett 

'ine  for  whom  I 
he  church  ;  and 
rked,  that,  since 
jmcnts  would  in 
use. 

:  found  it  quite 
been  carried  up 
veil  as  the  pews, 

irial  air,  and  he 
ing  exercises  in 
lour  came.  He 
)  the  people,  and 

an  Mr.  Clarkson 
ion  with  his  lec- 
ng.  He  is  very 
lerstand  that  he 
his  occasion,  but 
it  his  own  judg- 


He  fell  back  into  the  sofa,  and  I  rose  smiling. 

"  My  friends,  I  am  not  a  preacher,  could  not  and 
will  not  preach  ;  but,  at  the  earnest  request  of  your 
enterprising  pastor,  I  am  here  to  talk  about  that 
calamity  from  which  so  many  thousand  hearts  are 
still  bleeding ;  and,  if  I  were  spiritually  loyal  to  the 
peculiar  situation  in  which  I  find  myself  at  this 
moment,  I  would  preface  my  remarks  with  the  text, 
'Be  ye  also  ready.'"  And  thus  I  proceeded  thirty- 
five  minutes,  during  which  time  many  a  tear  in 
that  vast  congregation  came  stealing  forth  in  sym- 
pathy for  the  woes  consequent  upon  the  scenes  and 
incidents  which  I  described. 

The  evenings  came  and  went,  until  it  was  no 
longer  embarrassing  to  meet  the  vast  audiences,  and 
I  became  master  of  a  discourse  not  wholly  unwor- 
thy the  great  subject. 

At  last  we  reached  the  city  which  I  have  already 
miscalled  New  Boston.  Here  in  a  large  and  ele- 
gantly appointed  hall,  the  three  Jean  Clarksons 
came  together  on  one  platform,  and  measured 
strength  before  a  large  and  intelligent  audience. 

I  mentioned  to  my  hearers,  that,  having  met  two 
distinguished  literary  men  of  the  doomed  city  that 
day,  I  had  prevailed  on  them  to  increase  the  attrac- 


ti6 


THAT  YOUNG  MAN. 


tions  of  the  evening  by  their  presence  and  co-oper- 
ation ;  and,  mentioning  their  names,  added  that 
they  would  each  in  thei^"  turn  precede  myself  in 
gome  remaiks. 

It  had  been  mutually  agreed  to,  that  the  time, 
one  hour  and  a  half,  should  be  equally  divided  be- 
tween the  three  persons  in  the  Clarkson  trinity,  and 
that  our  advance  agents,  who  had  remained  there 
to  settle  and  receive  their  discharge,  should  act  as 
judges.  One  hundred  dollars  was  to  be  awarded 
the  victor  from  the  receipts  of  the  evening,  r 

There  was  such  a  similarity  between  the  dis- 
courses of  my  competitors,  that  I  was  forced  to 
believe  they  had  made  but  little  departure  from  the 
hints  they  received  at  the  commencement.  This 
gave  the  first  speaker  a  decided  advantage  over  the 
second ;  but  the  smiling  faces  of  our  judges  gave 
sufficient  evidence  that  they  would  make  due  al- 
lowance for  position. 

I  followed  in  my  happiest  mood,  and  had  a  de- 
cided advantage.  It  was  the  closing  lecture  of  the 
course  or  tour ;  and  my  profits,  after  every  demand 
was  satisfied,  netted  the  handsome  sum  of  seven 
thousand  dollars. 
The  contest  was  therefore  unequal.    My  competi- 


THAT  YOUNG  MAN. 


xr; 


;c  and  co-opcr- 
es,  added  that 
:cde  myself  in 

that  the  time, 
illy  divided  bc- 
son  trinity,  and 
remained  there 
,  should  act  as 
to  be  awarded 
svening,  /" 

tween  the  dis- 
was  forced  to 
arture  from  the 
ncement.  This 
antage  over  the 
3ur  judges  gave 
I  make  due  al- 


ters oirjy  have  had  more  ability,  even  more  genuine 
eloquence  ;  but  it  was  poverty  a^caiust  wealth,  labor 
against  capital ;  and  the  world  is  already  too  famil- 
iar with  the  issues  of  such  unequal  contests. 

The  committee,  at  my  previous  suggestion,  di- 
vided the  prize-money  equally  between  my  able 
assistants  ;  and  unto  this  day  they  recount  their 
respective  victories  in  good  faith. 


and  had  a  de- 
g  lecture  of  the 
T  every  demand 
:  sum  of  seven 


J.    My  competi- 


ii8 


THAT  YOUNG  MAN. 


CHAPTER  XV. 


I  HAD  now  reached  the  city  of  my  first  unfortu- 
nate newspaper  experience.     Here  my  assistant 
lecturers  were  paid  off  and  discharged,  as  also  the 
whole  staff;  and  we  dissolved  business  relations, 
■feeling  that  the  task  in  which  we  had  engaged  had 
.  come  to  a  glorious  completion. . 

Most  of  my  household  furniture,  formerly  used 
in  housekeeping,  was  stored  in  the  garret  belong- 
ing to  a  friend ;  and  the  little  house  in  which  we 
had  lived  was  vacated  on  the  same  week  of  my 
arrival, 

I  visited  it,  and  found  the  place  had  been  greatly 
improved.  Then,  securing  a  lease  to  the  ist  of  the 
following  May,  I  began  moving  in  the  furniture. 

Adding  considerably  to  our  household  goods,  I 
made  the  place  look  as  finely  as  possible,  and  waited 
for  Lotta.  She  had  already  announced  her  ap- 
proach by  wire,  and  I  was  hourly  expecting  her. 


THAT  YOUNG  MA^. 


"9 


ny  first  unfortu- 
ere  my  assistant 
ged,  as  also  the 
siness  relations, 
ad  engaged  had 

!,  formerly  used 
e  garret  belong- 
use  in  which  we 
ne  week  of  my 

bad  been  greatly 
to  the  I  St  of  the 
the  furniture, 
jsehold  goods,  I 
isible,  and  waited 
lounced  her  ap- 
xpecting  her. 


After  considerable  search,  I  had  found  our  old 
girl,  Minnie;  and  she  had  taken  charge  of  the 
little  home  once  more,  and  was  anxiously  awaiting 
her  mistress. 

It  was  eight  o'clock  on  Christmas  Eve  when 
Lotta  reached  the  city ;  and  was,  to  her  utter  sur- 
prise, conducted  to  the  same  little  home  which  she 
had  left  a  year  before. 

"Jean,  is  this  real,  or  am  I  dreaming?"  she 
asked  in  delight,  looking  bright  and  happy. 

"  Ask  Minnie,"  I  answered,  as  the  girl  came  in 
from  the  dii  ing-room  ta  say  that  supper  was  ready, 
closing  the  door  quickly  behind  her. 

This  was  almost  too  much  for  Lotta ;  and  half 
crying  and  laughing  she  sprang  towards  me,  and 
partly  kneeling,  with  both  arms  about  my  neck  and 
the  back  of  my  chair,  as  was  her  custom  in  mo- 
ments of  great  joy  or  sorrow,  sobbed  out,  — 

"You  have  been  making  a  surprise  for  me, 
Jean." 

I  kissed  her  tears  of  joy  away,  and  we  started  for 
the  dining-room,  where  she  met  another  surprise. 
A  long  table  was  groaning  under  the  richest  delica- 
cies ;  every  thing  which  the  season  afforded  had 
been  prepared ;  and  around  the  table  sat  a  happy 


I20 


THAT  YOUNG  MAN. 


twelve,  Lotta's  old  and  most  intimate  friends,  who 
joined  in  giving  her  a  welcome  which  she  can  never 
forget. 

Two  seats  at  the  table  were  empty,  and  we 
occupied  them  ;  while  Minnie,  with  one  hand  on  the 
sideboard  and  the  other  on  her  hip,  asked,  — 

"  And  what  will  you  have  first,  ma'am  ? " 

This  situation  overcame  Lotta,  and  she  burst 
into  tears,  crying  outright,  but  with  joy.  She 
sobbed,  and  we  laughed  heartily,  for  several  minutes ; 
and  frequently  during  the  meal  she  broke  out 
afresh. 

The  festivities  closed  over  three  bottles  of  Carte 
Blanche,  to  the  presence  of  which  Lotta  consented, 
since  the  whole  affair  was  in  honor  of  her  arrival. 

But  a  still  greater  surprise  was  in  store  for  my 
little  queen.  Before  we  arose  from  the  table, 
Minnie,  at  the  giving  of  a  preconcerted  signal, 
handed  a  small  box  to  Dr.  Norton,  who  with  his 
amiable  wife  occupied,  at  my  request,  the  head  of 
the  table. 

The  doctor,  wearing  his  gravest  countenance, 
arose  and  began, — 

"  It  is  my  pleasant  duty,  friends,  to  request  your 
attention  to  what  I  am  about  to  say.  —  Mrs.  Clark- 


i.wj'nu'Wi' '»'■'' 


TffAT  YOUNG  MAN. 


I3t 


ate  friends,  who 
;h  she  can  never 

empty,  and  we 
one  hand  on  the 
,  asked,  — 
la'am?" 

,  and  she  burst 

ivith  joy.      She 

several  minutes ; 

she  broke  out 

bottles  of  Carte 
!-.otta  consented, 
of  her  arrival, 
in  store  for  my 
[rom  the  table, 
}ncerted  signal, 
1,  who  with  his 
est,  the  head  of 

;st  countenance, 

to  request  your 
iT.  —  Mrs.  Clark- 


son,  you  have  been  a  long  time  absent.    Your  short 
stay  at  this  pleasant  residence  drew  close  to  your 
heart  the  truest  friendship  of  a  large  number  of 
good  people,  a  few  of  whom  are  here  to-night  to 
bear  testimony  to  my  words.     When  you  left,  a 
financial  cloud— a  blessing  in  disguise  — had  over- 
shadowed your  talented  husband.     On  your  return 
you  find  him  still  brilliant  with  the  laurels  of  vic- 
tory which  he  has  so  gallantly  won.     Is  it  not 
therefore  meet  and  proper  that  we  your  friends,  we 
who  know  your  worth  and  admire  your  devotion, 
should  assemble  here  to-night,  and  extend  to  you  a 
sincere  and  heartfelt  welcome  > " 

Lotta,  with  her  face  buried  in  my  bosom,  sobbed 
like  a  child  under  a  father's  severest  punishment. 

The  doctor  continued,  "This  we  do  gladly, 
heartily,  in  these  words :  Welcome,  thrice  welcome  ' 
home  !  Nor  is  this  all.  I  hold  here  in  my  hand  a 
beautiful  gold  watch  and  chain,  the  gift  of  ycur 
noble  husband.  Upon  one  of  the  cases  I  observe 
the  word  'Lotta,'  upon  the  other  'Jean.'  These 
are  words  which,  I  fancy,  Mrs.  Clarkson,  have  a 
meaning  to  you  far  deeper  and  more  sacred  than 
we  are  permitted  to  know.  There  is  but  one  who 
can  share  with  you  the  inspirations  which  must 


123 


THAT  YOUNG  MAN. 


come  with  the  mention  of  these  names  ;  and  long 
may  you  thus  share  them  together !  Mrs.  Clarkson, 
take  this  watch,  wear  it  as  a  token  of  your  hus- 
band's love  ;  and,  as  its  delicate  fingers  faithfully 
point  to  the  passing  hours,  they  will  imitate  the 
holy  constancy  of  your  own  untiring  devotion." 

I  took  the  watch  from  the  speaker,  and,  throwing 
the  chain  around  Lx)tta's  neck,  placed  it  in  her 
hand,  and  tried  to  brush  away  her  tears,  but  she 
cried  the  more. 

The  doctor  continued, — 

"Nor  is  this  all,  Mrs.  Clarkson.  I  hold  in  my 
hand  a  bank-draft  payable  to  your  order,  for  two 
thousand  dollars.  This  comes  to  you  in  this  wise. 
I  am  told  that  there  are  articles  of  copartnership 
existing  between  you  and  your  generous  husband, 
written  or  understood,  by  which  the  profits  as  well 
as  the  hardships  of  life  are  equally  divided  between 
you.  In  conformity  with  that  compact,  let  me  hand 
you  this  draft,  your  share  of  the  net  profits  on  your 
husband's  genius  for  the  past  year.  May  you  re- 
ceive many  such  tokens  of  his  love  and  devotion, 
and  finally  may  your  life  become  brighter  and  hap- 
pier each  day  to  the  end  of  a  long  and  useful  life  I " 


y. 


names ;  and  long 


I  Mrs.  Clarkson, 
ten  of  your  hus- 
fingers  faithfully 
'  will  imitate  the 
ing  devotion." 
cer,  and,  throwing 
placed  it  in  her 
.er  tears,  but  she 


1.  I  hold  in  my 
lur  order,  for  two 
1  you  in  this  wise, 
of  copartnership 
enerous  husband, 
the  profits  as  well 
y  divided  between 
npact,  let  me  hand 
let  profits  on  your 
ear.  May  you  re- 
ave and  devotion, 
brighter  and  hap- 
r  and  useful  life  1 " 


rJ/AT  YOUNG  MAN. 


133 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

T  OTTA  and  I  had  not  been  fairly  settled  in  our 
"^— '  new  old  home  in  New  Boston,  when  one 
morning  as  we  sat  at  breakfast,  and  as  I  opened  an 
enterprising  weekly  journal  published  in  New  York, 
to  which  some  ingenious  solicitor,  with  aid  of 
chromos,  had  induced  her  to  subscribe  in  my  ab- 
sence, she  remarked,  — 

"  What  are  you  going  to  do  next,  Jean } " 
But  before  I  could  answer  the  question,  my  eyes 
were  attracted  by  a  portrait  which  appeared  on  the 
first  page  of  the  paper  in  my  hands.  Under  it  I 
read  the  name  of  "  Col.  the  Hon.  John  Nicholson." 
Aside  from  the  portrait,  the  paper  contained  his 
biography,  from  which  I  learned  that  he  had  dis- 
tinguished himself  on  one  of  the  battle-fields  of 
the  Rebellion,  in  some  ordinary  affairs,  had  been 
twice  elected  to  the  State  Senate,  and  had  acquired 
considerable  wealth  as  a  brewer,  and  was  only  forty- 
five  years  old. 


124 


THAT  YOUNG  MAN. 


.  "There  is  a  mystery  here,"  I  said  to  Lotta. 

"Where,  Jean?" 

"  Here  is  a  portrait  and  biography  of  a  fellow 
in  this  paper,  who  has  done  nothing  extraordinary, 
and  has  no  reputation,  good  or  bad,  beyond  his 
own  neighborhood." 

"  In  what  paper  ? " 

"  In  this  weekly  fraud  to  which  you  subscribed 
for  the  sake  of  a  chromo,"  I  replied. 

"  Well,  we  don't  care,  do  we  ? " 

"\  do  care.  I  care  to  have  an  intelligent  under- 
standing of  such  things  as  I  see  and  hear,  and  this 
thing  puzzles  me." 

"  Can't  you  puzzle  it  out  ?  Come,  grainer,  jour- 
nalist, lecturer,  come,  don't  let  such  a  thing  over- 
come you,"  answered  Lotta  teasingi^. 

"  I  mean  to ; "  and,  with  my  reply,  I  made  an 
examination  of  the  paper  to  see  whether  or  not  the 
editor  understood  his  business. 

"  /  can  solve  it,  Jean.  The  editor  of  that  paper 
is  in  about  the  same  fix  that  you  were  when  some 
one  induced  you  to  publish  Miss  Speedwell's  poem, 
*  The  Orphan  Girl,'  in  '  The  Gazette,'  at  so  much 
aline." 

"  Do  you  mean  to  say,  Lotta,  that  this  man,  this 
Col.  the  Hon.,  has  paid  for  all  this  ?" 


y. 

id  to  Lotta. 

iphy  of  a  fellow 
ig  extraordinary, 
bad,  beyond  his 


I  you  subscribed 
d. 

intelligent  under- 
nd  hear,  and  this 

>nie,  grainer,  jour- 
ich  a  thing  over- 

eply,  I  made  an 
rhether  or  not  the 

tor  of  that  paper 
were  when  some 
Speedwell's  poem, 
:ette,'  at  so  much 

lat  this  man,  this 
s?" 


T//Ar  YOUNG  MAU. 


»2S 


"I  should  not  think  him  above  it,  if  he  is  a 
brewer,"  she  answered. 

This  threw  me  into  a  deep  study.     Breakfast 
'  over,  I  walked  down  town,  and  made  many  inquir- 
ies concerning  the  publishing  business,  especially 
the  book  department  of  it,  and  learned  much  I  had 
not  before  known. 

Step  by  step  I  came  into  the  most  stupendous 
scheme  of  my  life.  I  could  see  one  hundred  thou- 
sand dollars  clear  profit,  as  plain  as  the  nose  on  my 
face. 

I  rushed  home  to  a  late  dinner,  finding  Lotta 
considerably  alarmed  at  my  long  absence. 

"Where  have  you  been,  Jean,  till  this  time? 
The  dinner  was  cold  an  hour  ago,"  said  Lotta,  with 
a  wry  face. 

'♦'Man  shall  not  live  by  bread  alone;'  'I  have 
meat  that  ye  know  not  of,' "  was  my  reply. 

I  was  too  excited  to  eat  much.  Lotta  listened 
to  my  plans  with  interest.  She  did  not  like  the 
business  I  proposed,  but  agreed  with  me  that  it 
would  likely  be  profitable. 

"  It  is  all  due  to  that  miserable  little  paper  you 
subscribed  for,  Lotto.  You  are  always  helping  me 
without  knowing  it.     Had  it  not  been  for  the 


136 


THAT  YOUNG  MAN. 


interpretation  which  you  put  upon  that  portrait 
which  puzzled  me  this  morning,  I  would  not  this 
moment  be  on  my  road  to  fortune." 

Lotta  laughed  heartily,  but  asked  how  I  was 
going  to  manage. 

"  In  this  wise,"  I  answered.  "  We  will  move  to 
New  York,  take  elegant  quarters  at  the  Fifth 
Avenue,  secure  a  down-town  office,  and  go  it  in 

style." 

"O  Jean,  you  are  crazy!  That  will  ruin  us: 
your  ideas  frighten  me,"  she  answered  in  alarm. 

"Listen,  Lotta;  I  am  going  to  publish  a  large 
book  of  about  fifteen  hundred  pages,  called  '  Dis- 
tinguished Americans,'  or  'Eminent  Americans,' 
I  have  not  as  yet  decided  which.     It  will  consist  of 
about  five  hundred  or  more  portraits  and  biogra- 
phies.    I  have  estimated  that  there  are  five  hun- 
dred fools  in  this  glorious  country,  who  are  rich 
and  vain  enough  to  pay  five  hundred  dollars  each 
for  such  immortalization  as  this  scheme  will  afford. 
That  will  amount  to  two  hundred  and  fifty  thou- 
sand dollars ;  and  I   estimate  the  profits  at  one 
hundred  and  fifty  thousand  dollars.    Such  an  enter- 
prise cannot  be  conducted  in  a  hog-pen   Lotta. 
No,  no !  I  have  the  idea.    We  must  go  to  the  Fifth 


V. 

on  that  portrait 
I  would  not  this 

sked  how  I  was 

We  will  move  to 
;rs  at  the  Fifth 
ice,  and  go  it  in 

lat  will  ruin  us: 
^ered  in  alarm. 
0  publish  a  large 
lages,  called  '  Dis- 
nent  Americans,' 
It  will  consist  of 
traits  and  biogra- 
lere  are  five  hun- 
try,  who  are  rich 
idred  dollars  each 
scheme  will  afford, 
ed  and  fifty  thou- 
the  profits  at  one 
s.    Such  an  enter- 
a  hog-pen   Lotta. 
ust  go  to  the  Fifth 


'3 
i 


THAT  YOUNG  MAN. 


XVI 


Avenue  Hotel ;  and  I  must  get  out  a  letter-head, 
on  imported  hand-made  paper,  like  this :  '  Author's 
library  and  study,  parlors  A,  13,  C,  D,  Fifth  Avenue 
Hotel;  Publication  House,  250,  252,  254,  256,  and 
258,  Broadway.'  Then  I  must  issue  a  circular, 
describing  the  work  as  written  by  Professor  Jean 
Clarkson,  and  must  get  the  indorsements  of  fifteen 
or  twenty  State  governors  to  the  work.  Don't  you 
see,  Lotta  ? "  , 

Lotta  saw,  for  she  said,  "O  Jean,  you  are  a 
prodigy !  " 

"Thank  you  for  the  compliment,  Lotta,  but  I 
have  no  time  to  appreciate  it.  Pack  me  a  small 
valise :  I  go  to  New  York  in  an  hour,  to  make  the 
arrangements,  and  will  return  in  a  week  to  take 
you,  bag  and  baggage." 

Meeting  with  good  results  in  the  metropolis,  I 
soon  made  all  the  necessary  arrangements  for  the 
engraving,  printing,  &c.  A  large  printing  and 
publishing  house,  to  whom  I  revealed  my  plans, 
offered  to  go  into  partnership  with  me ;  but  I  de- 
clined, and  bound  them  by  writings  to  the  terms 
of  our  agreement. 

This  establishment  offered  me  a  room  for  my 
down-town  office,  so  that  on  my  letters  and  circu- 


138 


THAT  YOUNG  MAN. 


lars  I  could  use  half  a  dozen  Broadway  numbers, 
when,  indeed,  I  had  but  a  small  desk-room  up  two 
flights  of  stairs. 

Very  much  elated  at  the  prospect,  on  the  even- 
ing of  the  first  day  I  returned  to  the  St.  Nicholas, 
where  I  was  stopping,  and  telegraphed  Lotta, 
"  Safe  and  prosperous :  hallelujah  I " 


■'w  i       •    ' 


ladway  numbers, 
esk-room  up  two 


THAT  YOUNG  MAN. 


129 


;ct,  on  the  even- 
he  St.  Nicholas, 
igraphed    Lotta, 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

TVyTY  New  York  arrangements  all  made,  circu- 
^^^  lars  issued,  stationery  printed,  and  hotel- 
apartments  secured,. I  returned  for  Lotta.  A  week 
later  we  had  entered  on  a  scale  of  expensive  living, 
which,  as  Lotta  often  declared,  was  perfectly 
wicked. 

We  had  a  beautiful  suite  of  rooms,  one  floor 
above  the  dining-room,  consisting  of  a  reception- 
room,  a  beautiful  parlor,  and  a  sleeping-room  with 
dressing  and  bath  rooms  attached. 

The  furniture  and  appointments  were  rich  and 
elegant.  A  private  Or  exclusive  table  was  allotted 
us  in  both  the  dining  and  breakfast  halls,  and  we 
were  ready  to  entertain  our  company  in  princely 
style. 

My  business  was  now  fairly  inaugurated.  I  sent 
carefully  worded  letters  to  distinguished  men 
everywhere  ;  and  Lotta,  who  kept  an  eye  over  my 


f  ! 


..  r  i' 


130 


THAT  YOUNG  MAN. 


operations,  declared  she  had  no  idea  that  the  world 
contained  half  so  many  distinguished  men  as  my 
business  revealed. 

Here  is  a  sample  of  the  letters  which  I  sent  out. 
It  will  doubtless  be  recognized  by  thousands  who 
read  it.  Many  will  laugh  triumphantly  that  they 
were  wise  enough  to  consign  it  to  the  waste-bas- 
ket, where  it  rightly  belonged  ;  others,  not  a  few, 
will  recognize  in  it  the  alluring  words,  which,  strik- 
ing a  chord  of  sympathy  in  their  vain  souls,  led 
them  onto  the  indulgence  of  cheap  immortaliza- 
tion.    I.  will  give  the  letter,  heading  and  all :  — 

Distinguished  Americans  .'   A  Great  National  Work  !   Art 
Engravings  ! 

Author's  Librarv  and  Study,  Parlors  A,  B,  and  C, Horit. 

Ofpicb ,  Broadway ,  Nbw  York  City. 

Dear  Sir,  — I* beg  to  direct  your  attention  to  my  new 
work,  entitled  "  Distinguished  Americans  ;  "  circulars  fully 
describing  which,  and  containing  the  strongest  indorsements 
of  the  author,  you  will  find  enclosed  herewith.    The  work  is 

published  by &  Co.,  a  firm  well  knpwn  to  you.    To 

myself  is  assigned  the  important  task  of  selecting  persons 
whose  eminence  in  the  various  professions  and  industries 
entitles  them  to  a  place  in  the  work,  and  of  preparing  for  the 
press  the  biographies  of  such  persons.  I  desire  to  receive 
at  an  early  day  a  photograph  of  yourself,  cabinet  size,  to- 


THAT  YOUNG  MAN. 


131 


a  that  the  world 
hed  men  as  my 

irhich  I  sent  out. 
^  thousands  who 
ihantly  that  they 
o  the  waste-bas- 
thers,  not  a  few, 
irds,  which,  strik- 
r  vain  souls,  led 
,eap  immortaliza- 
ig  and  all :  — 

Uional  Work  /   Art 

,  B|  AND  C,  HoTEt. 

{bw  York  Citv. 

ittention  to  my  new 
ns  ;  "  circulars  fully 
ongest  indorsements 
ewith.  The  work  is 
knpwn  to  you.  To 
of  selecting  persons 
sions  and  industries 
[  of  preparing  for  the 
I  desire  to  receive 
self,  cabinet  size,  to- 


gether with  such  data  as  wUI  enable  me  to  write  a  lengthy 
biographical  sketch.  Should  you  find  it  embarrassing  to 
give  this, -and  I  know  your  sense  of  modesty  will  rci)cl 
against  it, -you  will  find  some  literary  friend,  who,  with 
your  own  assistance,  will  be  able  to  ;..  p^!;-  me  with  what  1 
require.  Both  the  biography  when  in  type,  and  the  engrav- 
ings before  final  publication,  will  be  submitted  for  your 
approv.iI.  Please  grant  me  an  early  reply,  and  signify 
whether  or  not  you  would  object  to  assist  this  great  national 
enterprise  so  far  as  to  be  at  the  slight  expense  of  your  own 
engraving. 

Vour  humble  and  obedient  servant, 

Jean  Clarkson. 
P.  S.  I  shall  be  glad  to  have  you  call  on  me  at  wy  library 
and  study  when  you  happen  to  be  in  the  city :  I  will  enter- 
tain  you  to  the  best  of  my  ability.  r  q 

What  was  not  set  forth  in  this  letter  was  elo- 
quently  told  in  the  circular  that  accompanied  it,  to 
which  a  well-known  publishing  firm  in  the  city  had 
permitted  the  use  of  their  name  for  a  consideration. 

The  spring  and  summer  during  the  progress  of 
the  work  were  full  of  odd  exfjeriences.  We  were 
besieged  at  the  hotel  by  parties  who  took  advantage 
of  the  postscript  to  my  letter.  It  was  wonderful 
how  these  men  would  not  only  pay  for  this  cheap 
fame,  but  travel  hundreds  of  miles  to  New  York, 


I3« 


THAT  YOUNG  MAN. 


where  they  could  superintend  the  affair,  so  far  as  it 
concerned  them,  in  person. 

Each  one  called  with  some  such  remark  as,  — 
«•  I  received  your  letter  some  time  ago,  but  could 
not  exactly  understand  what  was  wanted.     Having 
business  in  the  city,  I  took  advantage  of  a  few 
leisure  moments  to  call  and  see  you  personally." 

Before  they  left,  however,  it  became  evident  that 
the  greater  part  of  their  business  to  New  York 
was  with  me  ;  or,  as  Lotta  often  said,  they  came  to 
join  my  "mutual  admiration  society,"  for  such  was 
her  name  for  my  book  long  before  it  was  published. 
I  adapted  my  snare  to  suit  the  size  of  the  head 
which  I  desired  to  catch,  but  left  the  victims  to 
make  their  own  fits.    Three  styles  of  portraits 
became  necessary  to  meet  the  demands  otthe  three 
grades  of  eminance  which  my  wide-reaching  enter- 
prise concocted. 

Full-page  portraits  were  five  hundred  dollars ; 
half,  or  two  on  a  page,  two  hundred  and  fifty  each; 
five  on  a  page,  ond  hundred  and  fifty  each :  terms, 
cash  on  completion  of  engraving. 

Thus  had  I  graded  the  distinguished  men ;  but, 
as  I  could  not  control  them  in  matters  of  choice,  it 
happened  as  a  rule  that  the  least  distinguished 
chose  the  first  class. 


THAT  YOUNG  MAN. 


133 


fair,  so  far  as  it 

emark  as,  — 
ago,  but  could 
inted.     Having 
utage  of  a  few 
personally." 
me  evident  that 
to  New  York 
id,  they  came  to 
^,"  for  such  was 
it  was  published, 
jize  of  the  head 
t  the  victims  to 
'les  of  portraits 
inds  otthe  three 
^-reaching  enter- 

lundred  dollars; 
d  and  fifty  each ; 
ifty  each :  terms, 

lished  men;  but, 
tters  of  choice,  it 
1st  distinguished 


The  scenes  and  incidents  which  came  to  my 
mind  in  connection  with  this  business  would  fill 
more  than  ten  volumes  of  this  size ;  and  each  of 
them,  if  told  in  proper  style,  would  make  a  most 
laughable  story.  I  will  detain  the  reader  with  but 
a  single  one. 

I  had  been  manipulating  a  Michigander  who  had 
evidently  come  all  the  way  from  the  Peninsula 
State  to  see  and  share  in  the  benefits  of  my  scheme. 
He  may  have  had  some  slight  pretext  of  a  business 
character. 

I  had  dined  him  ;  and,  although  a  teetotaller,  he 
took  a  little  light  wine  for  his  stomach's  sake  to 
finish  off  with,  and  was  feeling  in  excellent  spirits. 
He  had  carefully  counted  the  cost,  and,  like  a  pru- 
dent  man  that  he  was,  decided  to  become  one  of 
a  group  of  five  at  one  hundred  and  fifty  dollars. 

We  started  out  to  the  artist's  gallery,  hoping  the 
light  would  be  yet  sufficiently  strong  to  get  a  good 
negative ;  but  the  hour  was  quite  late. 

The  photographer  concluded  to  make  thfe  at- 
tempt, but  was  doubtful  as  to  the  results.  He  had 
already  taken  many  photographs  for  my  work,  and 
was  beginning  to  suspect  the  nature  of  my  busi- 
ness in  spite  of  my  studied  silence. 


»34 


THAT  YOUNG  MAN. 


The  object  of  my  regard  on  this  occasion  was 
an  old  man,  who,  having  grown  up  with  a  well-to-do 
town  of  his  State,  had  become  wealjhy  through  no 
effort  of  his  own.  He  had  served  a  term  or  two 
in  the  early  forms  of  the  State  or  Territorial  Legis- 
lature. 

He  had  been  quite  a  reader  of  both  agricultural 
and  religious  works,  and  was  fond  of  manifesting 
his  knowledge,  but  fell  into  the  misfortune  of  using 
"geology"  for  "theology,"  and  vice  versa.  This 
threw  Lotta  into  a  fit  of  laughter,  and  on  one  occa- 
sion she  was  forced  to  leave  the  room.  But  to  the 
incident  in  question. 

The  old  gent  took  me  into  the  dressing-room, 
and  suggested  that  I  might  aid  in  arranging  his 
hair.  He  desired  it  "  frowzled,"  to  use  a  word  of 
his  own,  in  a  careless  Greeley  style.  I  ran  my 
hands  through  it,  and  gave  him  a  sort  of  Long- 
fellow appearance,  and  remarked  that  he  was  a  fine 
subject. 

H4s  vanity  was  unquenchable,  and  now  broke 
out  in  his  putting  on  various  phases  of  expression. 

"  How  do  you  like  that  style  >.  "  and  so  asking, 
he  raised  his  eyebrows,  making  about  sixteen  wrin- 
kles, and  pouted  out  his  ample  lips,  after  the  style 
of  an  aged  man  playing  with  his  grandchild. 


THAT  YOUNG  MAN. 


m 


lis  occasion  was 
with  a  well-to-do 
Ifhy  through  no 
i  a  term  or  two 
rerritorial  Legis- 

joth  agricultural 
1  of  manifesting 
sfortune  of  using 
nee  versa.  This 
and  on  one  occa- 
om.    But  to  the 

e  dressing-room, 
in  arranging  his 
;o  use  a  word  of 
:yle.  I  ran  my 
a  sort  of  Long- 
hat  he  was  a  fine 

and  now  broke 
:s  of  expression. 
'  and  so  asking, 
out  sixteen  wrin- 
)s,  after  the  style 
:randchild. 


"  I  would  look  natural,"  I  replied,  almost  split- 
ting from  suppressed  laughter. 

"  Then,  how  is  this  ?  "  he  continued,  drawing  his 
upper  lip  down  firmly,  and  forcing  the  under  one 
up  with  an  expression  of  good-humored  surprise. 

This  was  all  I  could  bear,  —  nay,  more.  I  gave  it 
up.  I  thought  the  matter  over.  There  was  only 
a  hundred  dollars  to  be  lost,  and  it  wag  a  case 
where  I  was  ready  to  give  two  hundred  for  a 
laugh  ;  and  so  I  lay  down  to  it,  and  rolled. 

My  patron  met  the  operator  at  the  door  of  the 
dressing-room,  and  apologized.  I  straightened  up, 
and  did  my  best ;  but  momentarily  volleys  of  laugh- 
ter broke  forth  in  spite  of  my  best  endeavors. 

He  took  his  seat,  and  the  operator  began  to 
adjust  the  camera.  All  was  ready,  and  the  cloth 
was  being  removed,  when  the  old  man,  raising  his 
hand,  said, — 

"  Take  me  in  a  group ! " 

The  operator  could  enjoy  this  with  me,  and  we 
broke  out  in  a  fit  of  laughter,  such  as  astonished 
the  Michigander  beyond  all  measure ;  either  of  us 
unable  to  speak  for  several  minutes,  to  save  our 
lives. 


ii 


136 


THAT  YOUNG  MAN. 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

DURING  my  stay  at  the  hotel,  I  made  the  ac- 
quaintance of  one  of  the  guests,  named  Jean 
Harrison.  He  was  a  wealthy  ship-owner,  and  a 
young  man  of  only  thirty  one  or  two. 

Through  some  means  Mr.  Harrison's  education 
had  been  sadly  neglected,  and  he  knew  little  or  noth- 
ing save  what  an  intelligent  person  will  gather  in 
general  contact  with  the  world.  He  was  a  bright, 
intelligent  man  ;  and  in  conversation,  especially  on 
matters  of  business,  he  was  gentlemanly  and  well 

informed. 

He  had  been  left  an  orphan  while  yet  an  infant, 
and  the  parties  with  whom  he  found  a  home  did 
POL  or  could  not  send  him  to  school. 

Among  his  deficiencies  was  the  utter  inability  to 
write  intelligently.  He  could  sign  his  own  name, 
but  the  penmanship  v;as  wretched. 

We  soon  became  fast  friends,  and  for  some  rea- 


I. 


,  I  made  the  ac- 
;sts,  named  Jean 
lip-owner,  and  a 
vo. 

rison's  education 
new  little  or  noth- 
on  will  gather  in 
He  was  a  bright, 
:ion,  especially  on 
lemanly  and  well 

ile  yet  an  infant, 

lund  a  home  did 

.ol. 

;  utter  inability  to 

;n  his  own  name, 

1. 

ind  for  some  rea- 


THAT  YOUNG  MAN. 


»37 


son  I  let  him  into  the  secrets  of  my  business.  One 
day  while  in  my  office  I  had  opened  in  his  presence 
letters  enclosing,  in  the  aggregate,  about  three  thou- 
sand dollars.  Seeing  this,  he  pressed  me  to  sell 
him  an  interest  in  the  affair ;  but  I  put  him  off. 

In  turn  Harrison  also  made  me  a  confidant  in  a 
most  important  matter  concerning  himself.  He 
was  in  a  tight  place,  and  needed  some  such  assist- 
tance  as  I  could  give  him. 

He  had  fallen  in  love  with  a  delightful  and 
accomplished  young  lady  in  the  city,  and  had 
resolved  to  marry  her.  The  lady  loved  him  in  re- 
turn ;  but  there  was  a  difficulty  in  the  way.  She, 
too,  was  an  orphan,  and  under  the  guardianship  of 
an  uncle.  But  little  opportunity  was  afforded  her 
for  entertaining  gentlemen,  except  those  after  his 
own  liking. 

The  Rev.  Dr.  Grey  thorn,  the  uncle  referred  to, 
was  principal  of  a  leading  college  in  the  city,  and 
preached  occasionally.  He  had  arranged,  t  as  he 
hoped,  for  the  marriage  of  his  niece  to  a  Col. 
Robert  Johnson,  a  lawyer  of  prospective  eminence 
and  some  property,  and  a  resident  of  New  York, 

Col.  Johnson  had  become  one  of  my  patrons. 
His  steel  engraving  had  been  completed,  approved. 


138 


THAT  YOUNG  MAN. 


and  paid  for ;  and  he  still  held  the  biography  which 
I  had  written,  waiting  for  an  opportunity  to  exam- 
ine it. 

The  young  lady,  whom  we  may  call  Tillie,  de- 
spised Johnson,  but,  to  satisfy  her  uncle,  occasion- 
ally received  his  attentions.  She  met  Harrison 
secretly,  and  whenever  occasion  offered  gave  him 
evidences  of  her  regard. 

Harrison  was  a  good-hearted  man,  honest,  but  a 
little  out  of  confidence  with  himself.  He  could 
not  prosper  in  this  matter  nearest  his  heart,  as  he 
desired ;  and,  now  that  a  new  difficulty  had  over- 
taken him,  he  sought  my  counsel  and  aid. 

His  new  difficulty  consisted  in  a  letter  which  he 
had  received  from  Tillie.  It  required  an  answer ; 
and  Harrison  could  not  write  sufficiently  fine  for 
the  occasion,  and  well  he  knew  it.  He  laid  the 
whole  case  before  me,  and  appealed  for  help. 

"What  can  I  do  for  you,  Mr.  Harrison?"  I 
asked,  as  we  sat  in  my  office  together,  brooding 
over  the  situation. 

"  I  wish  you  to  answer-  this  letter,  and  any  others 
she  may  send  me,  and  do  it  in  such  a  way  as  to 
bring  our  affairs  to  an  issue." 

This  was  a  task  to  which  I  gave  my  best  ener- 


\ 


biography  which 
rtunity  to  exam- 

y  call  Tillie,  de- 
uncle,  occasion- 
le  met  Harrison 
iffered  gave  him 

an,  honest,  but  a 
»self.  He  could 
:  his  heart,  as  he 
iculty  had  over- 
md  aid. 

I  letter  which  he 
uired  an  answer ; 
fficiently  fine  for 
it.  He  laid  the 
d  for  help. 
•.  Harrison?"  I 
gether,  brooding 

* 

:r,  and  any  others 
iuch  a  way  as  to 

ive  my  best  ener- 


THAT  YOUNG  MAN: 


»39 


gies.  Having  been  posted  as  to  all  crooks  and 
turns  in  their  experience,  I  wrote  an  answer  to  the 
letter,  which  Harrison  thought  a  little  too  strong. 
He  said  it  might  do  for  an  old  lover,  but  was  not 
timid  enough  for  him.  I  tried  again,  and  suc- 
ceeded. 

He  mailed  it.  and  in  three  days  showed  me  the 
answer.  I  wrote  again,  and  again,  and  again  ;  and 
again  she  replied.  Thus  matters  continued  for 
weeks,  not  one  of  which  came  that  did  not  wit- 
ness two  letters  pass  each  way. 

Their  love  waxed  warmer  and  warmer,  and  Har- 
rison's found  a  ready  exponent  in  my  willing  pen. 
Their  engagement  had  long  since  become  a  matter 
of  the  past,  and  the  wedding  nz.%  soon  at  hand. 

Some  of  the  letters  were  real  efforts,  giving  a 
depth  and  character  to  courtship  which  made  it 
instructive  as  wel)  as  entertaining. 

Tillie's  uncle  was  watching  her  closely.  He 
noticed  the  unusual  display  of  letters,  and  resolved 
to  make  an  investigi  tion ;  and,  the  more  readily 
that  he  might  execute  these  designs,  he  graciously 
permitted  Tillie  lo  pa.-'  a  visit  of  a  couple  of  days 
to  a  cousin  it;  onr  of  the  suburbs,  at  her  own 
request. 


'!^lm>)' .M>;- 


I40 


THAT  YOUNG  MAN. 


This  pretended  visit,  however,  was  Tillie's  de- 
ception, as  we  shall  see. 

She  had  scarcely  left  his  house  when  he  invaded 
her  private  apartments,  and  found  the  letters.  Be- 
coming exasperated,  he  carried  them  to  Col.  John- 
son, who,  as  he  rightly  supposed,  would  be  able  to 
share  in  his  unhappy  surprise. 

Johnson  was  a  shrewd  lawyer,  and  at  once  de- 
tected the  writing. 

"  Do  you  know  who  this  Jean  is,  who  writes 
these  letters  > "  asked  Johnson. 

"  I  have  no  idea,"  answered  the  reverend  princi- 
pal. 
"  He  is  none  other  than  Professor  Jean  Clarkson, 

a  married  man  who  lives  with  bis  wife  at  the 

Hotel  in  this  city." 

"You  astonish  me;  you  break  my  heart!  My 
niece  is  ruined.  I  will  prosecute  him !"  and  for  a 
few  moments  the  reverend  gentleman  in  his  rage 
forgot  his  highest  calling. 

"Are you  sure  of  this,  colonel  ?"  he  asked;  and, 
to  convince  him,  the  colonel  opened  a  drawer,  and 
brought  out  his  biography.     The  writing  was  com- 
pared, and  there  was  no  longer  room  for  doubt. 
They  talked  first  of  a  prosecution;  but  both 


was  Tillie's  de- 

when  he  invaded 
the  letters.     Bc- 
3m  to  Col.  John- 
would  be  able  to 

and  at  once  de- 

tn  is,  who  writes 

e  reverend  princi- 

sor  Jean  Clarkson, 
s  wife  at  the 

k  my  heart !  My 
:  him!"  and  for  a 
leman  in  his  rage 

?"  he  asked;  and, 
;ned  a  drawer,  and 
t  writing  was  cdm  ■ 
■oom  for  doubt, 
jcution;  but  both 


THAT  YOUNG  MAN. 


141 


Johnson  and  the  principal  agreed  that  such  a 
course  would  ruin  Tillie.  And  at  length  it  was 
decided  that  the  aggrieved  principal  should  at  once 
pay  a  visit  to  Mrs.  Clarkson,  in  my  absence,  and 
expose  the  faithless  conduct  of  her  husband.  In 
this  way  they  hoped  the  whole  affair  would  be 
broken  off  without  scandal. 

Meanwhile  my  project  was  nearing  completion. 
The  first  edition  of  the  book  had  appeared,  and  I 
had  sold  the  right  to  publish  the  second  for  five 
thousand  dollars.  In  all,  after  winding  up  the  busi- 
ness, the  profits  on  the  enterprise  were  quite  up  to 
my  most  sanguine  expectations,  notwithstanding 
the  enormous  expense  which  attended  it. 


THAT  YOUNG  MAN. 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

ON  the  same  afternoon  that  the  Rev.  Dr.  Grey- 
thorn  was  disclosing  the  supposed  faithless- 
ness of  her  husband  to  Lotta,  Harrison  and  Tillie 
were  being  united  in  an  up-town  church,  and  were 
to  meet,  some  friends  in  a  wedding  entertainment 
at  our  hotel. 

Lotta  and  I  were  to  join  the  company;  but, 
faithful  to  my  solemn  engagem.ent  with  Harrisoii. 
she  knew  nothing  of  it  until  after  the  scenes 
described  in  the  opening  chapter  were  enacted. 

When,  on  my  return  to  the  hotel,  I  discovered 
the  cause  of  Lotta's  grief,  I  resolved  on  the  spur 
of  the  moment  to  test  a  love  which  I  had  already 
too  much  tested,  and  did  so  in  the  cruel  proposition 
for  a  separation.  However,  my  test  proved  a  suc- 
cess ;  and  I  never  regretted  the  knowledge  gained 
thereby.  Lotta's  deportment  on  this  occasion  is 
worthy  imitation. 


THAT  YOUNG  MAN. 


»43 


e  Rev.  Dr.  Grey- 
pposed  faith  less- 
•rison  and  Tillie 
:hurch,  and  were 
ig  entertainment 

company;  but, 
t  with  Harrisoii. 
ifter  the  scenes 
vere  enacted, 
tel,  I  discovered 
ved  on  the  spur 
ch  I  had  already 
cruel  proposition 
;st  proved  a  suc- 
nowledge  gained 

this  occasion  is 


Before  the  marriage,  Harrison,  in  the  honesty  of 
his  heart,  had  confessed  to  Tillie  regarding  the 
letters  ;  and  on  the  wedding  evening,  at  the  close 
of  the  festivities  in  the  hotel,  Lotta  and  I,  with 
the  bride  and  groom,  withdrew  to  an  adjoining 
parlor,  where,  to  Lotta's  utter  surprise,  I  narrated 
the  incidents  of  the  afternoon  and  evening  in  rela- 
tion to  the  mysterious  letters. 

Harrison  fathered  the  letters  on  the  spot ;  and 
his  accomplished  bride  added  her  testimony  to  that 
of  his,  and  paid  me  a  rich  compliment  for  the  pen- 
manship, but  gave  me  no  credit  for  the  sentiments. 
It  would  have  been  impossible  to  convince  her  that 
Harrison  had  not  dictated  them,  and  no  one  was 
disposed  to  try. 

Lotta,  again  in  one  of  her  laughing,  crying  fits, 
called  me  mean,  cruel,  but  kissed  me  with  mani- 
fest relief.      .  - 

She  and  Tillie  became,  and  are  still,  fast  friends. 

Before  we  separated,  Harrison  suggested  that  I 
should  write  another  letter.  It  was  the  last  he 
would  ask  me  to  pen,  since  it  was  the  only  one,  he 
thought,  which  would  embarrass  Tillie ;  and  from 
henceforth  she  was  to  act  as  his  secretary. 

Writing-materials  were  provided;  and  we  pro- 
ceeded, he  dictating,  and  I  transcribing :  — 


144 


THAT  YOUNG  MAN. 


HoTiL,  Niw  York  City. 

Rev.  Dr.  Greytiiorn. 

Dear  5"/y,  — Tliis  .iftcrnoon  Tillie  and  I  were  m.irried. 
We  expect  you  will  forgive  all  when  you  know  all.  Come 
and  see  us  at  ten,  A.M.,  to-morrow  ;  but  first  show  this  letter  to 
Col.  Johnson,  and  explain  the  difference,  if  you  can,  between 
Je-in  Harrison  and  my  friend  Professor  Jean  Clarkson, 
whose  handwriting  and  my  own,  from  some  cause,  appear 
to  be  identical.  Jean  Harrison. 


^ 


y. 

HOTlt,   NlW  Yo»«  CiTV. 

ind  I  were  married, 
ou  know  all.  Come 
rst  show  this  letter  to 
,  if  you  can,  between 
sor  Jean  Clarkson, 
some  cause,  appear 
Jean  Harrison. 


THAT  YOUNG  MAN. 


MS 


CHAPTER  XX. 

"^TOW,  Jean,  I  want  to  remind  you  of  something 
■^  ^  you  said  before  I  went  home  on  that  visit  two 
years  ago,"  said  Lotta,  the  morning  after  she  had 
received  the  Rev.  Greythorn's  apologies,  and  ex- 
tended to  him  her  own  for  the  strange  incidents 
desc-ibcd  in  the  "opening  chapter,  for  which  they 
were  both  slightly  at  fault. 
"  Well,  go  on." 

"After  I  had  pressed  you  to  go  with  me  to 
father's,  you  said,  as  my  only  reward,  'Not  until  I 
have  twenty  thousand'     Do  you  remember  it  ? " 

"  I  do ;  and  now  you  want  me  to  go,  I  suppose. 
Well,  I  have  my  twenty  thousand,  and  will  go ;  I 
need  rest ;  and  since  I  am  out  of  business  we  will 
spend  a  few  monthsamong  the  old  folks  at  home." 
"  Will  you  let  mc  manage  the  whole  affair,  Jean  ? 
You  have  always  had  your  own  way ;  give  me  mine 
in  this,  won't  you?" 


m 


146 


THAT  YOUNG  MAN. 


"  Lotta,  I  am  in  your  hands  for  the  next  three 
months.  Steer  the  ship  to  suit  your  whims,  and 
get  all  the  satisfaction  out  of  it  you  can.  I  will  be 
ready  to  leave  for  home  in  a  few  days,  and  shall 
like  to  spend  Christmas  with  mother  and  father." 

Lotta  named  a  day  on  which  we  were,  to  leave ; 
and  I  promised  to  bend  my  affairs  to  meet  her  ap- 
pointment. Meanwhile  she  wrote  several  letters, 
and  I  observed  enclosed  in  one  a  bank-draft. 

We  made  the  journey  pretty  much  all  by  rail. 
As  before  stated,  steam  communication  had  been 
extended  through  and  beyond  Wintiirop.  The 
same  line  also  ran  at  a  distance  of  only  three  mUes 
from  my  father's  house. 

On  the  home  trip  we  passed  through  the  settle- 
ment, or  close  to  it,  where  I  had  been  reared ;  and 
I  persisted  that  we  should  stop  at  my  parents'  be- 
fore passing  through  to  hers. 

Lotta  was  firm.  "  I  have  your  promise,  Jean, 
that  I  should  manage  this  affair  to  my  own  liking," 
she  said,  as  the  cars  neared  the  station. 

"Yes;  but  what  will  my  poor  old  mother  and 
father  think  if  we  pass  them.?  I  won't  do  it !  Lotta,' 
you  are  selfish,  cruel,  thoughtless.  Let  us  get  off 
here  for  the  night,  and  take  the  early  morning 
train  for  Winthrop." 


•  the  next  three 
your  whims,  and 
I  can.     I  will  be 
r  days,  and  shall 
ler  and  father." 
e  were,  to  leave ; 
to  meet  her  ap- 
e  several  letters, 
bank-draft, 
much  all  by  rail, 
ication  had  been 
Wintlirop.      The 
E  only  three  miles 

irough  the  settle- 
been  reared;  and 
.t  my  parents'  be- 

lur  promise,  Jean, 

:o  my  own  liking," 

tation. 

ir  old  mother  and 

von't  do  it !   Lotta,' 

s.     Let  us  get  off 

;he  early  morning 


T/fAr  YOUNG  MAN. 


«47 


"  I  will  not  hear  to  it !  All  will  come  out  right, 
and  I  will  take  the  responsibility." 

"  But  have  you  no  regard  for  my  feelings  ?  You 
have  been  home  since  I  have." 

"  I  have  decided,  Jean !  Do  you  know  what  that 
means  ? "  said  my  wife,  stamping  her  little  foot,  and 
taking  me  off  in  a  way  which  I  readily  understood. 

The  argument  continued  until  we  had  passed  the 
station,  and  Lotla  had  conquered.  We  rode  the 
remaining  twenty  miles  in  almost  absolute  silence. 
I  tried  to  appear  angry,  but  felt  only  impatient, 
while  Lotta  entertained  me  with  frequent  titterings 
of  laughter  until  we  reached  Winthrop  station. 

Here  we  were  met  by  Squire  Bennett,  who,  after 
kissing  his  daughter,  gave  me  a  hearty  welcome. 
We  were  conducted  to  his  carriage,  and  dsiven  to 
his  residence,  our  trunks  following  close  behind  in 
another  carriage. 

We  were  taken  into  the  sitting-room,  where  we 
met  Mrs.  Bennett  and  the  family,  many  of  the 
children  having  grown  almost  beyond  recognition. 
Here  we  received  such  '  welcome  as  I  shall  never 
forget. . 

One  thing  worried  me.  There  were  no  signs  of 
supper,  although  it  was  not  long  past  the  hour 


148 


THAT  YOUNG  MAN. 


\   I 


for  that  meal ;  nor  had  our  wants  in  this  respect 
been  inquired  after. 

"Excuse  me.  Mrs.  Bennett."  I  said,  "but  I  am 

as  hungry  as  a  bear."  ^^ 

"We  shall  have  supper  in  a  mmute,   said  Lotta 

quickly,  before  her  mother  could  speak ;  "  but  come 

and  dress.    You  are  covered  with  coal-dust. 

Realizing  the  force  of  her  remark.  I  was  glad  of 

an  opportunity  to  wash  and  otherwise  make  myself 

presentable. 

"You  must  dress.  Jean.     Here  is  your  new 
suit."  said  my  little  woman,  dancing  about  me  m 

ioyful  suspense. 

"  Not  to-night.  Lotta.    A  wash  and  a  comb  will 

« I  have  decided.  Jean !  Do  you  know  wh.  -t 
means?"  she  repeated,  again  imitating  m,  •  -■ 
style  of  wilfulness;  and  added.  "Remember  your 

^'«  Give  me  some  reason  for  this,  or  I  will  not 
make  a  fool  of  myself  to  please  you!"  was  my 
impatient  answer. 

«  It  is  early,  and  there  will  be,  dear  knows  who.  to 
see  us  yet  to-night,"  said  the  amused  little  crea- 
ture, half  laughing. 


THAT  YOUNG  MAN. 


149 


in  this  respect 

said,  "but  I  am 

tiute,"  said  Lotta 
peak ;  "  but  come 
coal-dust." 
irk,  I  was  glad  of 
wise  make  myself 

ere  is  your  new 
cing  about  me  in 

ti  and  a  comb  will 

ou  know  whi        '^ 

imitating  m^      -'  '> 

"Remember  your 

this,  or  I  will  not 
ise  you!"  was  my 

,  dear  knows  who,  to 
amused  little  crea- 


"  Lotta,  there  is  a  swindle  about  this,  but  I  will 
dress." 

Half  an  hour  later  we  returned  to  the  sitting- 
room,  both  looking  our  best. 

"  Now  for  the  supper.  Mrs.  Bennett,  I  am  posi- 
tively hungry ! "  I  spoke  again. 

" In  one  moment,"  she  answered;  "but  let  me 
first  take  you  to  the  parlor,  and  introduce  you  to 
our  friends,  who  will  doubtless  like  to  share  with  us 
in  a  repast." 

Lotta  took  my  arm,  and  we  followed  ;  but  I  was 
not  without  suspicions.  The  door  opened  to  reveal 
a  crowded  parlor;  and  more  than  thirty  voices, 
male  and  female,  shouted, — 

"  Come  in,  come  in  ! " 

Lotta,  at  her  old  tricks,  took  to  crying  and 
laughing ;  and  for  a  moment  to  have  opened  my 
mouth  would  have  been  a  dangerous  expedient. 

The  tears  started  in  one  eye ;  but  I  sent  them 
back  involuntarily  with  a  grip  of  my  obedient 
nerves,  and  walked  in.  • 

"Ladies  and  gentlemen,"  I  broke  out,  "I  am 
surprised,  but  not  overcome.  Could  you  put  me  on 
the  track  of  some  m.an  in  this  neighborhood  who 
has  marketable  sheep  and  cattle  for  sale  ? " 


I 


,50  THAT  YOUNG  MAN. 

A  wild  and  hearty  burst  of  laughter  was  the 
only  response,  aside  from  a  general  stampede  in 
conformity  with   the   announcement    that  supper 

was  waiting. 

We  were  busy  for  five  minutes  shaking  hands, 
and  trying  to  find  variety  for  our  answers  to  such 
words  as  "How  are  you?"  "Glad  to  see  you;" 
"Welcome  home!"  "Will  you  teach  for  us  this 
winter?"  •  "I  have  a  fast  mare  for  sale;"  "Don't 
you  want  a  hundred  fat  cattle  ? "  &c. 


V. 


THAT  YOUNG  MAN. 


«s« 


aughter  was  the 
ral  stampede  in 
lent    that  supper 

s  shaking  hands, 
answers  to  such 
lad  to  see  you;" 
teach  for  us  this 
[or  sale;"  "Don't 
&c. 


CHAPTER    XXI. 

T)ASSING  through  the  sitting-room  which  we 
-'-  had  left,  we  were  led  into  an  old-fashioned 
farm-house  dining-hall,  about  twenty  by  forty  feet. 
It  presented  a  delightful  appearance,  trimmed  from 
floor  to  ceiling  with  evergreen,  flags,  flowers,  &c. 
One  would  have  supposed  it  a  banquet-hall  as  when 
dressed  for  a  state  occasion. 

To  me  this  was  the  most  agreeable  surprise  of 
all,  and  now  I  could  have  forgiven  Lotta  for  deny- 
ing me  the  privilege  of  calling  at  father's-;  but  in 
the  midst  of  it  all  I  could  not  help  feeling  that 
mother  and  father  had  been  shamefully  slighted.  I 
had  not  seen  them  for  more  than  ten  years.  But 
they  had  still  eyes  to  see,  and  hearts  to  feel,  and 
would  have  enjoyed  the  pleasure  of  this  entertain- 
ment ;  and,  aside  from  this,  I  was  unhappy  at  the 
thought  of  their  absence. 

Such  were  my  meditations  as  we  took  our  seats 


IS* 


THAT  YOUNG  MAN. 


around  the  long  table.  Squire  Bennett  was  look- 
ing in  his  best  humor,  at  the  head  of  the  table. 
His  good  wife  occupied  her  place  at  the  foot  op- 
posite him.  About  half  way  down  on  one  side 
Lotta  and  I  were  assigned  our  places.  The  other 
seats  on  either  side  were  occupied  by  the  guests, 
except  two,  —  one  on  my  immediate  right,  and  the 
other  on  Lotta's  immediate  left.  These  had  been 
left  vacant,  as  I  thought  inadvertently,  and  I  jok- 
ingly inquired, — 

"  Are  there  not  a  couple  of  children  whom  you 

can  bring  to  occupy  these  seats  ? " 

"Why,  Mr.   Clarkson,   have  you  no  family?" 

inquired  the  squire.     This  brought  the  blush  to 

Lotta's  cheeks,  and  the  company  laughed  heartily 

at  my  expense. 

"  Get  him  a  couple  of  children,  Jane,"  said  the 

squire  in  a  fit  of  laughter. 

Mrs.  Bennett  rose  as  if  in  obedience,  and  left 

the  room.    In  less  than  a  minute  she  returned 

with  —  My  Mother  and  Father. 


Si 


innett  was  look- 
id  of  the  table. 

at  the  foot  op- 
■n  on  one  side 
:es.     The  other 

by  the  guests, 
e  right,  and  the 
These  had  been 
;ntly,  and  I  jok- 

Idren  whom  you 

)u  no  family  ? " 
tit  the  blush  to 
laughed  heartily 

,  Jane,"  said  the 

;dience,  and  left 
te  she  returned 


THAT  YOUNG  MAN. 


15s 


CHAPTER  XXII. 

JEAN,  it  is  just  one  year  ago  to-night  since  I 
gave  you  that  glorious  surprise  at  Winthrop. 
It  makes  me  homesick  t©  think  of  it,"  said  Lotta, 
as  we  sat  together  one  evening  in  a  beautiful  parlor 
in  a  leading  hotel  at  the  capital  city  of  a  prosper- 
ous Western  State. 

"  Just  one  year  ago  this  very  New- Year's  Eve ! 
What  a  glorious  New- Year's  Eve  it  was  !  I  shall 
never  forget  it.  How  the  scenes  come  and  go ! 
We  shall  never  all  meet  again  as  on  that  evening. 
Mother  has  gone  to  her  rest  and  reward,  and  the 
squire  has  been  laid  in  the  tomb.  Your  father  and 
my  mother  in  the  better  world,  my  father  and  your 
mother  still  lingering  in  this :  has  that  thought 
never  come  to  you  with  significant  force  ? " 

"  No,  Jean :  I  never  thought  of  it  in  just  that  way 
before,"  said  Lotta  meditatively. 

"  Nor  I.     It  came  to  me  as  my  mind  hurried 


»S4 


THAT  YOUNG  MAN. 


retrospectively  over  the  scenes  that  are  forever 
gone,  but  which  still  live  in  our  recollections.  Say, 
Lotta,  you  often  speak  of  heaven  :  now,  do  you 
think  the  squire  has  ever  met  my  mother  there  ? " 

"  Of  course  I  do.     They  are  probably  talking  of 
us  to-night." 

"And  do  you  think,"  I  contiivued,  "that  they 
can  influence,  for  good  or  evil,  the  affairs  of  this 
life,  which  may  or  may  not  concern  us  ? " 
"  O  Jean,  that  is  a  Romish  idea ! " 
"  Then,  you  don't  believe  in  it  ? " 
"  No," 

"  Simply  because  it  is  Romish  ? " 
"  No !     I  don't  know  why.     I  was  taught  not  to. 
Perhaps  they  can.     I  do  not  understand  such  deep 
things.     It  is  not  for  us  to  know.    What  do  you 
think,  Jean  > " 

"  Oh !  I  don't  know  any  thing  about  it.  I  leave 
all  such  matters  to  you.  You  are  my  doctor  of 
divinity." 

"Why  did  you  ask  me  such  a  question?"  in- 
quired Lotta,  somewhat  puzzled. 

"  For  this  reason.  If  the  departed  can  influence, 
our  actions,  I  was  going  to  ask  you  whom  we 
should  hold  responsible  for  my  father's    foolish 


y. 

that  are  forever 
collections.    Say, 
n  :  now,  do  you 
mother  there  ? " 
obably  talking  of 

tvued,  "that  they 
lie  affairs  of  this 
■n  us  ? " 


I " 


vas  taught  not  to. 
irstand  such  deep 
V.    What  do  you 

about  it.  I  leave 
are  my  doctor  of 

a  question?"  in- 

rted  can  influence, 
ik  you  whom  we 
^  father's    foolish 


TI/AT  YOUNG  MAN. 


m 


proposal  of  marriage  to  your  mother,  —  the  squire, 
or  my  dear  departed  mother  ?  but,  as  you  don't  be- 
lieve in  the  doctrine,  I'll  not  ask  the  question." 

"Jean,  you  are  positively  wicked.  How  could 
you  indulge  such  awful  thoughts  ? " 

"  Well,  let  us  change  the  subject.  Do  you  know, 
Lotta,  I  am  in  a  quandary  over  this  business,  and 
fear  that  unless  something  turns  up  in  my  favor  it 
will  not  go  through.  The  Legislature  has  now  been 
in  session  nearly  a  week,  and  I  have  had  but  little 
encouragement  from  any  of  the  members." 

"  Jean,  do  tell  me  what  that  business  is..  What 
are  you  trying  to  do  "i     I  cannot  understand  it." 

"  Simply  this,"  I  answered  :  "  I  have  invented  or 
contrived  some  eighteen  hundred  blank  forms,  used 
in  connection  with  all  kinds  of  public  business, 
such  as  school  registers,  contracts  with  teachers, 
and  blank  forms  of  all  kinds  for  every  department 
of  State  business.  They  have  all  been  approved 
by  the  superintendent  of  public  instruction,  the 
Attorney-General,  and  the  heads  of  the  several  de- 
partments to  which  they  belong.  I  wish  to  have 
them  authorized  by  the  Legislature,  in  which  case 
every  department  will  be  obliged  to  use  them.  I 
have  them  all  copyrighted ;  and,  can  I  push  the 


»8« 


THAT  YOUNG  AfAA'. 


matter  through  both  Houses,  I  will  have  a  monopoly 
of  State  stationer  in  which  there  are  two  fortunes 
annually  at  the  grade  of  prices  I  have  arranged." 

Lotta  could  now  grasp  my  idea.  She  inquired 
no  further,  but  left  me  to  my  meditations. 

It  was  evident  that  most  of  the  members  with 
whom  I  had  talked  saw  the  significance  of  my 
plan.  It  was  of  a  private  nature ;  and,  as  no  one 
would  profit  by  the  law  but  its  promoter,  it  would 
be  difficult  to  create  sufficient  interest  to  consum- 
mate my  designs. 

I  had  started  out  in  the  belief  that  five  thousand 
dollars  would  carry  the  required  resolution  through 
both  Houses  swimmingly  ;  but  three  days'  combat 
with  the  leading  members  taught  me  that  it  w  ..- 
probably  require  ten  thousand,  and  I  was  not  will- 
ing to  risk  so  much. 

The  project  would  probably  yield  a  hundred 
thousand  a  year  ;  but  it  was  an  untried  experiment, 
and  there  was  no  telling  how  often  I  should  be 
tripped.  Two  thousand  dollars  had  already  been 
spent  in  getting  out  samples  of  the  blanks,  and 
securing  the  required  indorsements  from  chiefs  of 
departments :  therefore  it  would  n^t  do  now  to  fal- 
ter.    I  resolved  to  sink  eight  thousand  more  ;  and, 


lavc  a  monopoly 
ire  two  fortunes 
vc  arranged." 
,     She  inquired 
ations. 

^  members  with 
lificance  of  my 
and,  as  no  one 
omoter,  it  would 
rest  to  consum- 

lat  five  thousand 
solution  through 
ee  days'  combat 
ne  that  it  w  — 
i  I  was  not  will- 

ndd  a  hundred 
tried  experiment, 
ten  I  should  be 
had  already  been 
the  blanks,  and 
s  from  chiefs  of 
->t  do  now  to  fal- 
isand  more  ;  and, 


rffAT  YOUNG  MAN. 


m 


after  weighing  the  whole  case  to  the  best  of  my 
knowledge,  the  possibility  of  success  became  appar- 
ent. 

The  wholesale  stationery-house  which  had  em- 
barked with  me  in  the  enterprise  would  furnish 
half  the  amount  required,  but  were  to  have  only 
one-third  of  the  profits  :  hence  the  case  still  pre- 
sented some  hopeful  phases. 

Three  days  later  the  members  began  to  gather, 
and  once  more  the  lobby  of  the  hotel  was  crowded. 
I  resumed  my  work  with  cautious  manipulation, 
making  the  acquaintance  of  some  new  members, 
and  advancing  in  the  favor  of  those  with  whom  I 
had  previously  met. 

There  was  one  thing  decidedly  against  me. 
Some  ten  or  twelve  of  the  senators  and  assembly- 
men had  purchased  immortalization,  at  the  rate  of 
two  hundred  and  fifty  or  five  hundred  dollars  a  head, 
in  my  "  Distinguished  Americans  "  two  years  be- 
fore. They  had  outlived  the  delusion  of  their  van- 
ity, and  had  come  to  view  the  matter  in  the  light 
of  impartial  criticism,  and  were  thoroughly  ashamed 
of  the  whole  affair.  More  than  this,  they  must 
have  come  to  believe  my  endeavors  to  hand  their 
distinguished  names  down  to  posterity  were  insin- 


158 


THAT  YOUNG  MAN, 


cere.    However,  I  was  not  to  be  overcome  by 

this. 

When  the  session  opened,  I  took  a  prominent 
Democrat  — one  of  the  leaders  —  into  my  confi- 
dence ;  we  had  bargained,  and  his  best  energies 
were  thoroughly  enlisted;  but  he  gave  it  as  his 
candid  opinion,  that  my  scheme  could  not  be  car- 
ried through  short  of  twenty  thousand  dollars. 

"  The  fact  is,"  he  said  over  a  bottle  of  champagne 
one  evening,  "  we  are  seldom  re-elected,  and  must 
make  the  best  we  can  of  a  single  term.  If  mem- 
bers could  depend  on  a  run  of  four  or  five  terms, 
they  would  be  less  grasping." 

I  appreciated  his  remark,  —  that  is,  I  felt  its 
force,  —  but  at  the  same  time  resolved  to  let  the 
scheme  rest  on  the  merits  of  ten  thousand,  or  sink. 


THAT  YOUNG  MAN, 


S59 


overcome  by 


)k  a  prominent 
-into  my  confi« 
\  best  energies 
gave  it  as  his 
luld  not  be  car- 
and  dollars, 
le  of  champagne 
ected,  and  must 
term.  If  mera- 
\x  or  five  terms, 

lat  is,  I  felt  its 
olved  to  let  the 
lousand,  or  sink. 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 

TT  7E  will  now  look  in  upon  a  little  proup  of 

''  ■  three  men,  who  were  sipping  their  wine 
and  puffing  their  Havanas  in  an  elegant  apartment 
at  another  hotel  in  the  same  city. 

These  men  were  Col.  Briggs  of  Melv', .«,  Gen. 
Bright  of  Morrisburg,  and  Major  Brown  jf  a  well- 
known  town  on  the  Mississipp-,  -  ihe  president, 
vice-president,  and  treasurer  cf  :he  Melville,  Mor- 
risburg, and  Mississippi  Railroad  Company,  whose 
line  was  now  in  course  of  construction. 

These  shrewd  men  —  all  really  celebrated  for 
their  energy  and  success  in  busin  .s^'  —  had  brought 
previous  legislatures  to  their  aid  in  no  small  appro- 
priations, on  two  occasions.  This  was  the  third 
time  they  had  come  up  to  the  capital  with  an  axe 
to  grind,  and  on  this  occasion  it  was  exceedingly 
dull. 

Their  case  was  not  overly  hopeful,  for  several 


I 


i6o 


THAT  YOUNG  MAN. 


reasdns.  The  road  had  been  so  long  under  way, 
and  its  management  so  much  at  vjjriance  with 
every  principle  of  economy,  that  it  had  become  a 
question  of  State  politics,  and  was  difficult  of  con- 
trol. 

It  was  to  overcome  such  difficulties  that  these 
three  railroad  dignitaries  now  United  their  money 
and  skill  and  energies. 

Another  appropriation  was  indispensable,  yet 
the  difficultfes  in  the  way  of  securing  it  were 
nearly  or  quite  insurmountable.  But  these  men 
were  not  altogether  without  hope.     Hear  them  :  — 

"  General,"  asked  the  major,  "  what  is   to  be 

done?" 

"  I  am  trying  to  solve  it,  major.  However,  some- 
thing must  be  done  at  once,"  answered  Gen.  Bright 
in  perplexity. 

"  I  will  tell  you,"  interppsed  Col.  Briggs.  "  We 
must  send  the  cleverest  lobbyist  in  this  country  to 
that  legislature  with  twenty  thousand  dollars,  and 
ask  for  an  appropriation  of  five  hundred  thousand. 
If  he  is  shrewd  enough  he  will  succeed.  If  not, 
our  case  is  lost ;  but  this  is  our  only  hope." 

"  I  am  ready  to  indorse  your  opinion,  colonel ; 
but  where  is  there  a  man  smart  enough  for  the 


long  under  way, 

t  vjjriance  with 

;  had  become  a 

difficult  of  con- 

ilties  that  these 
ted  their  money 

dispensable,  yet 

ecuring   it  were 

But  these  men 

Hear  them :  — 

'what  is   to  be 

However,  some- 
ered  Gen.  Bright 

)1.  Briggs.  "  We 
I  this  country  to 
sand  dollars,  and 
indrcd  thousand, 
succeed.  If  not, 
ily  hope." 
opinion,  colonel ; 
t  enough  for  the 


THAT  YOUNG  MAN. 


i6i 


task?  That,  it  seems  to  me,  is  the  question  of 
the  hour,"  said  Gen.  Bright,  indorsing  "the  proposi- 
tion. 

Major  Brown  filled  his  glass,  and  drank  heartily. 
Then  replacing  his  cigar,  he  took  an  easy  position, 
and  began,  smiling  :  — 

"  Gentlemen,  I  know  a.  man  who  could  carry 
out  the  colonel's  proposition,  provided  it  is  within 
the  scope  of  human  possibilities.  You  too,  unless 
I  greatly  err,  know  the  same  man  quite  as  well  as 
I  do.  Now  tell  me.  Gen.  Bright  and  Col.  Briggs, 
on  the  honor  of  a  man,  how  much  did  you  pay  for 
the  publication  of  your  portrait  and  biography  in 
that  book  entitled  '  Distinguished  Americans' .? " 

There  was  a  pause.  The  colonel  looked  down 
his  nose  in  silence.  Gen.  Bright  satisfied  his 
nervous  disposition  by  refilling  his  glass. 

"  Come,  gentlemen,  we  are  all  in  the  same  boat 
Now  let  us  compare  tickets,"  added  the  major. 

"  That  was  a  huge  farce !  I  am  ready  to  confess 
here,  over  this  glass  of  wine,  that  never  before  or 
since  have  I  made  such  a  fool  of  myself.  I  should 
like  to  meet  that  Clarkson,  and  give  him  my  con- 
gratulations," confessed  the  general. 

The  three  compared  tickets  as  the  major  sug- 


i6a 


THAT  YOUNG  MAN. 


gested,  but  found  no  inequality.  They  had  been 
immortalized  at  five  hundred  a  head  each.  There 
was  no  laughing  one  at  the  otheY".  The  circum- 
stances of  the  case  offered  no  such  opportunity ; 
but  each  felt  a  general  sympathy  for  the  other. 

The  major  persisted  that  the  man  who  was 
smart  enough  to  extract  fifteen  hundred  dollars 
from  the  Melville,  Morrisburg,  and  Mississippi 
Railroad,  for  the  biographical  immortalization  of  its 
three  principal  officers,  was  the  man  to  whom 

he  was  read}i  to  commit    the  important  trust  of 

securing  the  appropriation. 

"The  man-  you  refer  to,  major,  is  at  the  — — 

House,  in  this  city.     His  name  is  so  announced  in 

the  evening  paper,"  said  the  colonel  with  some 

enthusiasm. 

"Then,"  said  Gen.  Bright,  "I  propose  that  we 

appoint  Major  Brown  to  wait  on  him  to  ascertain 

on  what  terms  we  may,  if  at  all,  be  able  to  secure 

his  services    for  the    proposed  work.      I  rather 

approve  of  the  major's  idea." 

After  some   further  conversation,  this    course 

was  agreed  upon,  and  the    major  accepted    the 

charge. 

Lotta  and  I  were  reading  the  evening  papers  in 


They  had  been 
ad  each.    There 
;Y-.     The  circum- 
ich  opportunity ; 
or  the  other, 
man  who   was 
hundred  dollars 
and    Mississippi 
lortalization  of  its 
;  man  to  whom 
nportant  trust  of 

r,  is  at  the  — — 

so  announced  in 

)lonel  with  some 

propose  that  we 

him  to  ascertain 

be  able  to  secure 

work.      I  rather 

ition,  this    course 
ijor  accepted   the 

evening  papers  in 


THAT  YOUNG  MAN. 


163 


silence  at  the  hotel,  when  a  bell-boy  rapped  at  the 
door.  I  admitted  him,  and  was  presented  with  a 
neat  card  containing  the  words,  — 

"A.  W.  Brown." 

"Whocanitbe,  Lotta?" 

"  No  one  that  I  know ;  probably  one  of  the  mem- 
bers who  wishes  to  talk  business.  I  will  retire  to 
the  sleeping-room,  and  you  can  receive  him  here." 

I  ordered  the  boy  to  show  the  gentleman  up, 
falling  in  with  Lotta's  suggestion,  stUl  puzzling  in 
my  mind  over  the  name. 

"  Brown,  Brown  ?  Let  me  see.  I  have  it.  He 
is  one  of  the  patrons  to  my  '  Distinguished  Ameri- 
cans.' What  can  he  want  ?  Well,  we  shall  see." 
Thus  I  questioned  myself  until  the  visitor  arrived. 

"  Mr.  Clarkipon,  I  believe.     My  name  is  "  — 

"  Major  Brown !  I  knew  you  in  a  moment  from 
your  steel  engraving.  Take  a  seat."  The  ease 
with  which  I  recognized  him  was  no  small  surprise. 

"You  astonish  me,  Mr.  Clarkson:  I  had  no  idea 
you  would  remember  my  face." 

"  Remember  your  face !  My  dear  sir,  you  have  a 
remarkable  face.  Any  man  who  has  made  the 
slightest  study  of  faces  would  require  to  see  your 
portrait  but  once  to  recognize  you  anywhere." ' 


i64 


THAT  YOUNG  MAN. 


This  gave  him  an  impression  of  my  superiority ; 
and,  as  it  turned  out,  was  just  what  I  wanted  to  do. 

"What  brings  you  West,  Mr.  Clarkson?  Are 
you  making  the  acquaintance  of  our  legislators  at 

the  Capitol  ? " 

"Yes,  somewhat.  I  seem  to  fall  in  with  them 
by  accident.    They  are  a  jolly  set  of  fellows." 

«  You  are  travelling  for  pleasure,  I  presume,  Mr. 

Clarkson  ? " 
"  I  make  it  a  point  to  bring  some  pleasure  out  of 

most  every  thing  I  do." 

"  Are  you  much  acquainted  in  the  West  ? " 

"Well,  slightly." 

"  How  do  you  like  our  cotmtry  and  people  ? " 

"Well,  very  well.  You  have  a  vast  country, 
inexhaustible  resources,  and  you  aje  a  pushing, 

energetic  people." 

Thus  the  major  pursued  his  questions  one  after 
another,  with  a  view  to  learning  my  business  West. 
However,  he  was  not  rewarded  for  his  pains. 

"  I  saw  your  name  in  the  papers,  and  took  to 
myself  the  liberty  of  calling.  Indeed,  I  am  glad 
To  have  met  you."  And  with  this  remark  he  rose, 
apparently  to  leave. 


J 


THAT  YOUNG  hfAN. 


i6s 


ny  superiority ; 
I  wanted  to  do. 
larkson  ?  Are 
ir  legislators  at 

1  in  with  them 
f  fellows." 
I  presume,  Mr. 

pleasure  out  of 

eWest?" 

nd  people  ? " 
a  vast  country, 
ate  a  pushing, 

estions  one  after 
y  business  West, 
his  pains, 
lers,  and  took  to 
deed,  I  am  glad 
I  remark  he  rose, 


"  I  thank  you  very  much,  major,  for  your  kind- 
ness. I  am-glad  you  have  condescended  to  show 
me  so  much  attention.  Will  you  not  sit  a  little 
longer?  Here  are  some  excellent  cigars.  Take 
one,  and  let  us  smoke  together." 

I  urged  my  invitation ;  and  the  major  accepted  a 
cigar,  and  reseated  himself. 

"  I  suppose  you  are  engaged  on  some  new  book, 
Mr.  Clarkson  > " 

"No,  major:  I  am  resting,  —  simply  taking  a 
quiet  cruise  among  your  Western  cities,  rather 
looking  for  something  to  turn  up.  Before  I  return, 
I  shall  investigate  some  of  the  many  opportunities 
for  investment  which  your  country  presents." 

"  Would  you  care  to  engage  your  services  for  a 
short  time  in  this  city,  Mr.  Clarkson,  for  a  particu- 
lar  object  ? " 

"  What  is  to  be  done,  major .' " 

At  this  point  we  entered  into  each  other's  confi- 
dence. He  gave  me  the  history  of  the  Melville, 
Morrisburg,  and  Mississippi  Railroad,  and  pointed 
out  their  present  needs. 

I  sympathized  with  him,  and  emphasized  the 
need  of  immediate  and  substantial  public  aid,  de- 


i66 


THAT  YOUNG  MAN. 


fended  railroads  generally,  and  noted  some  inci- 
dents illustrative  of  their  great  influende  for  good. 

Finally  we  came  to  the  point.  He  had  confi- 
dence in  my  ..uility,  I  in  his  money.  On  these 
lines  we  were  approaching  rapidly  to  each  other's 

heart. 

He  expected  to  gain  sufficient  influence  for  the 
passage  of  his  appropriation  bill,  with  about  twenty 
thousand  dollars.  I  figured  a  little,  and  manifested 
a  belief  that  less  would  accomplish  the  desired  re- 
sult. 

The  subject  of  my  compensation  came  up ;  and 
on  this  point  I  was  silent.  He  named  five  thou- 
sand dollars  on  the  condition  of  my  success,  but 
made  provision  for  nothing  in  case  of  my  failure. 
I  drew  his  attention  to  this  fact ;  and  he  assured 
me  that  his  course  was  in  conformity  with  a  well- 
known  and  long-established  rule. 

I  was  not  cowardly  enough  to  doubt  my  own  suc- 
cess, and  agreed  to  his  terms.  We  made  some 
other  definite  arrangements,  one  of  which  was,  that 
all  moneys  distributed  were  to  be  conveyed  by 
check  signed  by  himself,  and  made  payable  to  the 
order  of  the  parties  who  were  to  receive  it. 


t*Cits>U'-f5/??»P^&i^3rKtS'Siy' 


ted  some  inci- 
enfie  for  good. 
He  had  confi- 
ley.    On  these 
to  each  other's 

ifluence  for  the 

th  about  twenty 

and  manifested 

the  desired  re- 

1  came  up ;  and 
imed  five  thou- 
my  success,  but 
e  of  my  failure, 
and  he  assured 
lity  with  a  well- 

)ubt  my  own  suc- 
We  made  some 
f  which  was,  that 
36  conveyed  by 
ie  payable  to  the 
iceive  it. 


THAT  YOUNG  MAN. 


167 


I  agreed  to  this,  feeling  considerably  relieved. 
There  could  be  no  doubt  as  to  my  integrity,  since 
there  would  be  no  opportunity  for  deception. 

The  major  left,  agreeing  to  visit  my  rooms  daily, 
in  order  to  keep  posted,  and  to  give  me  the  proper 
instructions. 


i68 


THAT  YOUNG  MAN. 


CHAPTER   XXIV. 


"DROWN  had  no  sooner  retired  than  Lotta  came 
■*-'  in,  greatly  excited. 
"  Why,  Jean,  what  did  I  hear  ? " 
"  You  were  not  listening,  were  you  ? " 
"  Yes,  I  was.     I  couldn't  help  it.    The  idea  of  a 
man  presuming  to  make  you  such  an  offer !    Why, 
Jean,  you  are  no  man,  or  you  would  have  ordered 
him  out  of  the  room :  I  am  surprised !     He  must 
think  you  are  a  rogue  like  himself !    Think  of  it, — 
a  perfect  stranger  comes  here,  proposing  to  have  you 
do  his  meanest  work ! " 

"  It  was  rather  cool,  Lotta." 
"  And  you  seem  to  take  it  cool," 
"  Yes :  I  shall  pay  him  in  another  way.  I  feel 
greatly  encouraged  since  he  came:  there  is  no 
doubt  of  my  success.  In  less  than  ten  days, 
Lotta,  '  Clarkson's  Forms '  will  be  legalized  and 
authorized,      Major  Brown  will    get    his   fingers 


(V. 

THAT  YOUNG  MAN.                         169 

• 

badly  burned  in  this  matter,  or  I  am  greatly  mis- 

taken." 

I   now  began  a  scheme  which  ended  triumph- 

antly.    The  major  gave  me  his  daily  instructions. 

and  in  that  way  I  was  enabled  to  work  to  greater 

/. 

advantage. 

Most  of  these  Western  politicians,  like  those  of 

than  Lotta  came 

the  East,  were  hard  drinkers.    An  average  of  three 

or  five  whiskeys  during  the  day  made  a  good  foun- 

dation for  excessive  champagne-drinking  during  the 

ron?" 

evening. 

.    The  idea  of  a 

It  was  through  this  practice  of  wine-drinking  that 

an  offer!    Why, 

I  could  best  find  a  pretext  for  private  interviews. 

lid  have  ordered 

On   one  occasion  I   was  introduced   to    Capt. 

ised!     He  must 

Thomas,  a   live,  wide-awake,  pushing  man.     He 

!    Think  of  it, — 

represented  a  large  and  wealthy  constituency,  and 

osing  to  have  you 

exercised  a  large  influence  in  the  House. 

After  exchanging  salutations,  I  said,  — 

"  Captain,  have  you  leisure  to  drink  a  few  bottles    - 

1 

of  champagne  with  me  this  evening } " 

-her  way.     I  feel 

"  I  shall  be  busy  until  nine,  but  will  be  pleased  to 

le:    there  is  no 

meet  you  after  that." 

than  ten  days, 

"  Then  come  over  to  Parlor  A, House,  at 

be  legalized  and 

nine,  and  I  will  have  made  ready." 

get    his   fingers 

• 

The  captain  came  on  time,  and  we  opened  a  bot- 

^^ 

^ --^-^.^--^-..-^.:- --^-^.- 

170 


THAT  YOUNG  MAN. 


•^r-m 


tie  of  Roederer.    He  seemed  to  have  a  special  relish 
for  Roederer,  and  could  smoke  two  Havanas  to  my 

one. 

At  ten  o'clock  we  had  laid  aside  the  convention- 
alities due  among  strangers,  and  settled  dowii  to 
the  more  familiar  customs  of  old  friends,  occasion- 
ally emphasizing  our  words  with  a  friendly  pelt  of 
the  hand  on  each  other's  knee. 

We  had  t'.us  reached  the  stage  for  business,  and 
I  proceeded. 

"  Captain,  are  you  true  blue  ? " 

"  True  blue !  " 

"Square?" 

"  Square ! " 

"  Then,  give  me  your  hand ! " 

We  shook  hands  as  when  people  wish  to  recognize 
each  other  as  in  the  bonds  of  strictest  confidence. 

"  Captain,  I  am  liberal,  free-hearted,  and  like  to 
return  favor  for  favor.  I  have  an  axe  to  grind  at 
this  session:  I  want  your  assistance.  I  wish  to 
lay  my  plan  before  you ;  and,  if  you  can  conscien- 
tiously indorse  it, — understand  me,  captain,  I  do 
not  wish  to  insult  you  or  any  other  gentleman  of 
honor,  —  if,  I  iay,  after  you  have  carefully  weighed 
my  proposals,  you  can  indorse  them  as  a  matter  of 


e  a  special  relish 
Havanas  to  my 

the  convention- 
settled  dowti  to 
iends,  occasion- 
friendly  pelt  of 

[or  business,  and 


wish  to  recognize 
test  confidence, 
rted,  and  like  to 
axe  to  grind  at 
ince.  I  wish  to 
lou  can  conscien- 
ae,  captain,  I  do 
ler  gentleman  of 
;arefully  weighed 
n  as  a  matter  of 


THAT  YOUNG  MAN. 


»7« 


principle,  I  am  willing  to  give  you  a  check  for  one 
thousand  cloiiars,  as  a  sort  of  compensation  for  such 
services  as  you  can  render." 

"  That  is  fair  and  honorable.  Of  course  I  would 
not  sell  my  vote  or  my  influence ;  but  I  see 
nothing  inconsistent  in  your  proposals.  What  is 
your  project } " 

"  I  want  to  have  '  Clarkson's  Forms '  adopted," 

"  Oh !  is  that  it }  I  have  heard  something  of  your 
plan,  and  I  see  nothing  inconsistent  in  it.  There 
is,  I  think,  no  reason  why  I  should  not  lend  my 
influence  to  your  scheme."  ^ 

"  If  I  may  count  on  you,  captain,  to  the  last,  the 
check  will  be  paid  over  to-morrow." 

"  You  may  count  on  me  for  that,  Mr.  Clarkson : 
I  shall  take  pleasure  in  rendering  you  all  the  assist- 
ance I  can.  There  are  some  eight  or  ten  from  my 
section  whose  votes  I  can  shape,  —  or  I  should  say 
who  depend  on  me  for  counsel  in  all  such  matters. 
I  will  attend  to  these  with  pleasure." 

We  closed,  in  this  way,  what  some  people  call  a 
political  job.  It  is  hard  to  define  whether  the  fault 
is  most  with  the  lobbyist  or  the  member.  Certain 
it  is  that  both  are  guilty. 

We  opened  another  bottle  of  champagne,  and 


173 


THAT  YOUNG  MAN. 


confirmed  the  mutual  understanding  by  a  mutual 
drink.  Before  we  separatcJ,  I  remarked  with 
affected  disinterestedness, — 

"  Captain,  I  am  told  that  our  friends  of  the  Mel- 
ville, Morrisburg,  and  Mississippi  Railroad  are 
after  another  appropriation.  Can  you  support  the 
measure  ? " 

"  I  must  1  )ok  into  the  affairs  of  that  road. 
There  is  a  srrew  loose  somewhere  in  the  manage- 
ment ;  but  it  may  be  we  can  see  our  way  clear  to 
give  them  assistance." 

"Captain,  you  ought  to' encourage  railroads  on 
general  principles.  It  is  true  the  management 
generally  squander  half  the  means  at  their  com- 
mand foolishly ;  but  the  money  is  usually  re-dis- 
tributed among  the  tax-payers,  and  in  that  way  I 
see  no  evil  that  can  result." 

"  I  am  in  favor  of  railroads,  Mr.  Clarkson  ;  and, 
indeed,  I  have,  on  a  former  occasion,  voted  to 
aid  the  Melville,  Morrisburg,  and  Mississippi  line, 
and"  — 

"  And  don't  you  think  you  will  do  so  again  ? " 

"That  depends,  Mr.  Clarkson.  I  am  rather 
favorable  than  otherwise ;  and  it  may  be  I  can 
indorse  the  proposition  to  grant  another  appro- 
priation." 


A'. 


TlUT  YOUNG  MAN. 


«73 


ling  by  a  mutual 
remarked    with 

ends  of  the  Mel- 
pi    Railroad    are 
you  support  the 

s    of    that  road. 

re  in  the  manage- 

our  way  clear  to 

rage  railroads  on 
the  management 
ns  at  their  com- 
is  usually  re-dis- 
id  in  that  way  I 

•.  Clarkson  ;  and, 
casion,  voted  to 
Mississippi  line, 

do  so  again  ? " 
1.      I  am   rather 
it  may  be  I  can 
:  another  appro- 


"Well,  captain,  I  am  authorized  to-night  to  offer 
you  five  hundred  for  your  assistance  in  this  matter, 
provided  you  can  grant  it  consistently.  You  see, 
these  fellows  are  poor,  and  cannot  come  forward  as 
of  old.  Yet  they  fully  appreciate  your  influence, 
and  count  you  as  good  as  fifteen  in  the  House ; 
but,  captain,  they  are  poor,  very  poor.  They  need 
help." 

"  Yes :  they  have  had  a  hard  struggle  over  that 
project.  It  was  rather  premature,  and  so  many 
difficulties  have  come  up,"  added  the  captain,  re- 
lighting his  cigar. 

"  Captain,  let  me  put  the  whole  matter  into  one 
check,  and  say  that  you  will  give  these  poor  ftillows 
a  lift.  They  could  have  come  down  handsomer  in 
days  gone  by,  and  you  must  take  the  will  for  the 
deed." 

The  Captain  now  becomes  very  sympathetic. 
He  recounts  some  of  his  deeds  of  philanthropy  and 
self-sacrifice,  to  \Yhich  I  listen  with  profound  atten- 
tion. 

Finally  we  open  another  Roederer,  and  order 
broiled  chicken  on  toast,  which  is  brought  to  our 
room.  At  twelve  o'clock  lunch  was  over,  and  we 
poured  over  it  a  benediction  of  champagne. 


r 


MM 


>74 


THAT  YOUNG  MAN. 


The  captain  lighted  another  cigar,  and  re- 
marked, — 

"  I  will  support  Gen.  Bright's  application  for  an 
additional  appropriation,  out  of  sympathy  for  the 
enterprise.  The  general  has  worked  hard  in  the 
matter,  and  deserves  our  support.  There  are,  per- 
haps, some  reasons  why  his  application  should  be 
refused,  but  we  must  give  him  another  lift." 

"You  are  right,  captain.  It  would  be  hard  to 
throw  the  road  aside  -now.  It  is  for  the  interests 
of  the  whole  State  that  it  be  completed  at  the 
earliest  possible  day." 

At  length  the  captain  took  my  hand  in  a  "  good- 
night ; "  and  I  verbally  assured  him  that  on  the 
following  day  I  would  pass  over  the  check  for 
fiffeen  hundred,  and  added,  that,  as  we  had  been 
together  in  this  way,  I  would  manage  so  as  to  give 
him  the  check  of  some  disinterested  man,  whjch  I 
could  do  by  exchanging  my  own  for  it.  He  ap- 
proved, and  we  separated. 

At  one  o'clock  I  rapped  at  the  door  of  my  room, 
but  Lotta  made  no  answer.  I  rapped  again,  still 
louder,  and  yet  there  was  no  stir  or  noise  within. 
Again  and  again  I  rapped,  with  like  results,  until 
at  length  the  key  turned,  but  the  door  was  not 
opened. 


cigar,    and    re- 

pplication  for  an 
ympathy  for  the 
ked  hard  in  the 
There  are,  per- 
cation  should  be 
ther  lift." 
rould  be  hard  to 
for  the  interests 
:onipleted  at  the 

hand  in  a  "  good- 
him  that  on  the 
r  the  check  for 
as  we  had  been 
age  so  as  to  give 
ted  man,  whjch  I 
1  for  it.     He  ap- 

door  of  my  room, 
apped  again,  still 
r  or  noise  within, 
like  results,  until 
:he  door  was  not 


THAT  YOUNG  MAN. 


»7S 


This  was  the  signal  for  an  approaching  storm. 
Lotta  had  retired,  afier  waiting  patiently  for  two 
hours.  She  had  not  closed  her  eyes,  but  wished  to 
manifest  her  disappointment  by  keeping  me  about 
so  long  at  the  door,  as  if  asleep. 

I  entered,  and  locked  the  door  after  me.  Then 
passing  into  the  sleeping-room,  I  prepared  for  re- 
tiring. 

,,  No  words  were  exchanged.  Lotta  lay  against 
the  wall,  at  the  baclc  part  of  the  bed.  I  reclined 
on  the  front,  leaving  a  space  of  at  least  three  feet 
between  us. 

In  a  few  moments,  under  the  influence  of  the 
evening's  dissipation,  I  fell  asleep. 

Lotta,  as  was  her  custom  after  waiting  a  reason- 
able time  for  my.  confession,  and  failing  to  receive 
it,  began  to  cry.  I  did  not  heed  her,  and  she  cried 
still  louder. 

After  half  an  hour  of  this  performance,  she  dis- 
covered I  was  asleep.  It  was  no  longer  any  use  to 
ciy.  In  this  dilemma  she  rose,  and,  throwing  a  shawl 
about  her  shoulders,  passed  into  the  parlor,  and  sat 
down  before  the  fire. 

The  noise  which  she  purposely  inflicted,  dis- 
missed my  sleep.    Of  course  I  missed  Lotta.  ,  In 


1/6 


THAT  YOUNG  MAN. 


alarm,  I  followed  her  to  the  parlor,  and  found  lier  in 
a  crying  attitude. 

I  talked  to  her  tenderly,  and  she  cried  as  one 
suffering  the  pangs  of  grief.  Then  followed  an 
explanation,  an  apology,  and  some  pet  names. 

At  three  o'clock  vv  c  retired,  perfectly  reconciled. 
I  had  promised  never  again  to  remain  out  after  ten 
o'clock ;  she  never  again  to  sulk  when  imperative 
business  kept  me  from  her  even  beyond  that  hour. 


nd  found  "her  in 

le  cried  as  one 
en  followed  an 
et  names, 
ctly  reconciled, 
in  out  after  ten 
hen  imperative 
'ond  that  hour. 


THAT  YOUNG  MAN. 


X77 


CHAPTER  XXV. 

TN  a  few  days  the  major  called,  and  I  gave  him 
-■■  an  account  of  my  experiences  with  the  captain. 
I  began  in  this  way :  — 

"Major,  I  am  becoming  more  hopeful.  How 
many  votes  do  you  think  Capt.  Thomas  can  carry 
with  him,  in  case  he  should  throw  his  utmost  influ- 
ence AVith  you  ? " 

"  A  good  many.  He  is  very  influential ;  and,  be- 
sides, I  should  regard  his  coming  over  to  us  as  a 
considerable  stroke.  We  have  regarded  him  as  an 
enemy." 

"  And  well  you  might  have.  I  wish,  major,  you 
had  been  a  mouse  in  the  crack  during  the  conver- 
sation we  had  the  other  night." 

"  Was  he  very  bitter  ? " 

"  Bitter !  You  are  probably  aware  how  he  some- 
times indulges  in  profanity,  are  you  not,  major  ? " 

"  He  does  swear  wretchedly  sometimes,"  replied 
Major  Brown  uneasily. 


178 


THAT  YOUNG  MAN. 


"Well,  he  never  reached  the  climax  until  I 
brought  this  Melville,  Morrisburg,  and  Mississippi 
Railroad  scheme  to  his  notice  last  evening," 

"Oh!  I  knew  he  was  opposed  to  granting  us 
further  aid." 

"  I  should  say  he  was." 

"Then,  you  could  do  nothing  with  him?"  he 
asked  in  surprise. 

"  I  found  him  a  more  difficult  case  than  I  expected 
to  encounter  in  the  whole  battle.  But,  major,  let 
me  tell  you  that  this  very  day  his  enthusiasm  in 
favor  of  an  additional  appropriation  will  overreach 
that  of  your  best  friends." 

"You  astonish  me!"  exclaimed  Major  Brown, 
rising  to  his  feet  in  amazement.  "  Will  he  really 
work  for  us  ? " 

"  You  may  depend  on  him,"  I  answered.  "  There 
is  no  man  in  the  legislature  who  will  do  more, — 
few,  indeed,  who  can  do  more." 

"  I  h?-^  not  expected  this.  It  seems  to  me,  Mr 
Clarkson,  you  have  surmounted  the  greatest  diflOi- 

V     \\     J. 

"  I  had  to  come  down  handsomely,  however."      " 
"Of    course,  of   course.     How  much  did  you 

promise,  —  a  thousand.'"  asked  the  interested  rail 

road  man,  greatly  agitated. 


climax  until  I 
and  Mississippi 
:vening," 

to  granting  us 


vith  him?"   he 

;  than  I  expected 

But,  major,  let 

3  enthusiasm  in 

n  will  overreach 

Major  Brown,      ^ 
"  Will  he  really 

iwered.    "  There 
will  do  more, — 

leems  to  me,  Mr 
he  greatest  diffi- 

ly,  however." 

much   did   you 
e  interested  rail 


T//Ar  YOUNG  MAN. 


179 


"  He  is  to  have  a  check  to-day  for  fifteen  hun- 
dred. I  also  want  five-hundred-dollar  checks  for 
Hosman,  Biglo\  ,  French,  Bowman,  Brigham, 
O'Brien,  Fitzpatrick,  Harrison,  McCormick,  and 
Lindsay;  and  two-hundred-dollar  checks  for  Pat- 
terson, Welsh,  Lynch,  O'Hara,  McGinness,  McLel- 
lan.  Rice,  Packard,  Dyer,  White,  Harland,  and 
McFadden." 

"  Do  you  mean  to  tell  me,  Mr.  Clarkson,  these 
mtfn  are  all  for  us  at  the  amounts  you  name?" 
asked  the  major,  thoroughly  bewildered. 

"I  mean  just  that." 
'  "  How  could  you  have  gone  through  the  House 
in  so  short  a  time  ? " 

"  Our  only  hope  is  in  pushing  the  matter  through 
as  fast  as  possible.  Should  there  be  any  delays, 
we  will  have  newspaper  mouths  to  stop,  an-i  it  will 
require  another  twenty-thousand-dollar  plug  for 
them.  You  can  see,  by  the  names  I  have  given 
you,  that  we  are  all  safe  so  far  as  the  House  is  con- 
cerned. My  plan  is  to  have  this  bill  pass  that  body 
at  once.  Before  it  reaches  the  Senate*,  major,  I 
will  have  that  honorable  body  prepared  to  receive 
it.  Senators,  as  a  rule,  have  more  principle  than 
members  of  the  House ;  and  I  will  need  the  pres- 


i8o 


THAT  YOUNG  MAN. 


f' 


ti£e  of  their  support  to  the  bill  among  those  gen- 
tlemen." 

"I  like  your  plan,  Mr.  Clarkson;  but  are  you 
working  within  your  means } "  The  major  was  fig- 
uring closely. 

"Certainly:  eight  thousand  nine  hundred  for 
the  House,  and  eleven  thousand  one  hundred  for 
the  Senate.  I  have  made  the  apportionment  to  the 
best  of  my  ability." 

After  further  conversation,  the  major  handed  me 
the  required  checks,  and  I  spent  the  day  distribut- 
ing them  among  tiie  members,  reminding  each,  in 
turn,  that  I  expected  a  box  of  Havanas  sent  around 

to  Parlor  C, House,  for  my  benefit. 

The  noble  legislators  received  their  hire  with 
concealed,  yet  at  the  same  time  pronounced,  grati- 
tude, and  smiled  an  assent  to  my  ingenious  hint 
for  the  cigars. 

If  the  reader  will  multiply  my  experience  with 
Capt.  Thomas  by  the  number  of  names  given  above, 
he  will  learn  two  things ;  viz.,  first,  how  lobbying 
is  done,  and  what  it  is  done  for;  second,  how  I 
succeeded  in  getting  my  authorization  of  the 
"  Clarkson  Forms  "  through  the  House  at  the  ex- 
pense of  the  Melville,  Morrisburg,  and  Mississippi 
Railroad  company. 


mong  those  gen- 
son  ;  but  are  you 
'he  major  was  fig- 

line  hundred  for 

one  hundred  for 

)ortionraent  to  the 

major  handed  me 
the  day  distribut- 
2minding  each,  in 
.vanas  sent  around 
\f  benefit. 

d  their  hire  with 
pronounced,  grati,- 
my  ingenious  hint 

ly  experience  with 
lames  given  above, 
irst,  how  lobbying 
Dr;  second,  how  I 
horization  of  the 
;  House  at  the  ex- 
g,  and  Mississippi 


THAT  YOUNG  MAN. 


i8i 


One  evening,  on  returning  to  the  hotel,  the  clerk 
wanted  to  know  if  I  had  gone  into  the  cigar  busi- 
ness. I  told  him  no,  and  wanted  a  reason  for  such 
an  inquiry.  He  assured  me  that  some  ten  or 
fifteen  boxes  of  cigars  had  been  sent  in,  all  for  my 
room. 

"  These  are  a  reward  of  merit,  such  as  Sunday- 
school  superintendents  distribute  to  faithful  chil- 
dren, only  of  a  different  character:  keep  mum, 
and  I  will  remember  you  at  the  proper  time." 

"  Mum's  the  word  !  "  he  replied.  I  entered  the 
elevator,  and  was  soon  with  Lotta. 

"  Jean,  what  has  happened  ? " 

"  Nothing,  I  hope." 

"  Here  are  twelve  boxes  of  cigars,"  she  continued. 
"  The  boy  persisted,  each  time,  that  they  were  for 
you ;  and  I  was  forced  tg  receive  them.  What  does 
it  mean .' " 

I  explained  the  matter  to  Lotta.  She  laughed 
heartily,  and  concluded,  that,  if  the  modern  legisla- 
tor was  a  knave  and  a  fool,  he  was  also  generous. 
Then  she  gave  me  a  sound  lecturing,  comparing 
my  conduct  with  sound  orthodoxy,  much  to  my 
shame. 

She  feared  I  was  not  prepared  to  die,  and  mani- 


^ijtiSSiwiAViyiu^fiiSiiiiiw*'-'^^^ 


1 84 


THAT  YOUNG  MAN. 


> 


for  three  days.  Should  the  press  come  down  upon 
us  in  the  mean  time,  we  might  suffer  defeat.  Now, 
let  us  divide  the  remaining  one  thousand  between 
the  two  leading  dailies.  This  done,  we  are  sure  of 
victory." 

"  I  quite  agree  with  your  suggestion ;  and  no  one 
is  better  qualified  to  manage  this  little  affair  than 
yourself.  Here  are  the  checks  for  the  senators  ; 
and  here  also  a,re  two  checks,  one  for  each  paper, 
dividing  the  thousand  equally  between  them,  as 
you  propose.  I  trust  that  in  one  week  you  will  be 
able  to  attend  a  champagne  supper  with  the  officers 
of  the  road,  in  Morrisburg,  when  we  shall  cele- 
brate together  our  success." 

"  I  shall  be  with  you  on  that  occasion  if  possible, 
major.    There  ie  now  no  doubt  of  our  triumph." 


■M* 


;onie  down  upon 
;r  defeat.  Now, 
ousand  between 
;,  we  are  sure  of 

tion ;  and  no  one 
little  affair  than 
or  the  senators  ; 
;  for  each  paper, 
tween  them,  as 
veek  you  will  be 
•  with  the  officers 
1  we  shall  cele- 

:asion  if  possible, 
our  triumph." 


THAT  YOUNG  MAN. 


I8S 


CHAPTER  XXVI. 

'TPHERE  was  pleasure  in  the  work  of  distribut- 
-■■  ing  the  checks  among  the  honorable  senators, 
not  only  for  the  distributer,  but  also  the  distin- 
guished gentlemen  who  received  them.  I  did  not 
fail  to  mention  the  cigars,  nor  did  they  fail  to  re- 
spond. 

'  The  mission  among  the  newspapers  also  afforded 
some  enjoyment.  I  was  probably  the  better  lobby- 
ist in  that  quarter,  A  brief  sketch  of  my  experi- 
ence with  one  will  presept  both  cases,  for  they  were 
not  dissimilar. 

I  was  admitted  to  the  sanctum  of  the*  editor-in- 
chief,  and  began,  — 

"  Mr.  Editor,  I  have  a  matter  here  that  I  wish 
written  up.  I  desire  you  to  look  it  over ;  and,  if 
you  can  indorse  it  conscientiously,  I  will  pay  you 
handsomely." 

"  What  is  it  ? "  he  inquired. 


!    . 


i86 


THAT  YOUNG  MAN. 


I  explaineil  <:hat  it  was  "  Clarkson's  Forms,"  re- 
minded him  that  the  matter  had  gone  through  the 
House,  and  would  come  up  in  the  Senate  in  a  day 

or  two. 

He  looked  over  the  samples  I  presented,  and  at 
once  gave  them  his  warmest  commendation. 

"  I  can  recommend  these,"  he  said,  "  on  princi- 
ple." ■  . 

This  opened  the  way.  I  manifested  my  readiness 
to  hand  over  three  hundreS  on  the  spot,  provided 
three  columns  could  be  devoted  to  a  descrip  ion 
and  recommendation  of  my  scheme. 

This  was  agreed  upon,  and  I  gave  the  assistant- 
editor  some  points  for  the  article. 

Then,  closeting  myself  once  more  with  the  chief, 
I  became  philanthropic,  remarking  that  Gen.  Bright 
was  striving  to  get  another  appropriation  for  his 

road. 

The  edftor  did  not  believe  the  bill  could  be  car- 
ried through  the  Senate.     I  joined  him  in  this  sen- 
timent, adding  that  it  might  be  accomplished  with 
'   the  assistance  of  his  paper. 

He  was  also  of  opinion  that  much  influence  for 

or  against  the  scheme  might  emanate  from  his  pen. 

I  mentioned  that  recently  I  had  become  inter- 


■asm^M 


\N. 


THAT  YOUNG  MAN. 


187 


;son's  Forms,"  re- 
gone  through  the 
:  Senate  in  a  day 

presented,  and  at 

mendation. 

:  said,  "  on  princi- 

;sted  my  readiness 

the  spot,  provided 

I  to  a  descrip  ion 

me. 

jave  the  assistant- 

lore  with  the  chief, 
ig  that  Gen.  Bright 
propriation  for  his 

bill  could  be  car- 
ed him  in  this  sen- 
accomplished  with 

much  influence  for 

lanate  from  his  pen. 

had  become  inter- 


ested in  the  road,  and  would  like  to  see  the  bill 
become  a  law,  and  concluded  by  offering  to  raise 
my  three  hundred  to  five  if  the  editor  would  give 
the  road  an  editorial  send-off  in  the  next  issue  of 
his  paper. 

In  this,  as  in  all  other  cases,  I  based  my  proposi- 
tion on  the  proviso  that  he  could  indorse  the  road 
and  its  wants  on  '  rinciple. 

We  agreed  >sed  over  the  check ;  and  on  the 

following  day  ea.  ,1  journal  contained  three  columns 
of  "  Clarkson's  Forms  "  and  a  half  column  of  Mel- 
ville, Morrisl)urg,  and  Mississippi  Railroad. 

The  "  Clarkson  Forms "  bill  passed  the  Senate 
with  a  two-thirds  majority  two  days  before  the 
Melville,  Morrisburg,  and  Mississippi  Railroad 
appropriation  act  came  up ;  but  I  stood  by  the  ship 
until  the  last  sail  should  be  reefed. 

I  realized,  that,  but  for  the  needs  of  this  unfortu- 
nate railroad,  my  own  scheme  would  have  failed 
utterly.  Therefore,  since  the  success  of  my  own 
plans  was  indebted  to  the  generosity  of  these  men, 
I  determined  to  watch  their  interests  faithfully. 

The  appropriation  bill  reached  a  third  reading, 
and  became  the  subject  of  a  red-hot  discussion, 
nn  a  Friday:  the  Senate  was  to  adjourn  at  six 


i88 


THAT  YOUNG  MAN. 


o'clock,  until  the  following  Tuesday.  The  enemies 
of  the  road  began  a  determined  skirmish  ;  but  the 
w  .il  paid  votaries  of  our  cause  outflanked  llicir 
foes,  and  at  a  quarter  to  six,  only  fifteen  minutos 
before  the  hour  of  adjournment,  the  bill  was  con- 
curred in,  and  the  appropriation  of  five  hundred 
thousand  dollars  to  the  Melville,  Morrisburg,  and 
Mississippi  Railroad  became  a  matter  of  history. 
'  The  general,  the  colonel,  and  the  major  were  in 
town,  as  also  were  many  friends  of  the  road ;  and 
trc  whole  party  indulged  themselves  in  a  v.ine 
supper  at  a  leading  hotel  the  same  evening. 

The  major  arranged  for  n\y  going  to  Morrisburg 
to  attend  a  sort  of  private  banquet  to  be  given  by 
the  road  as  a  token  of  appreciation  for  my  services ; 
but  I  declined  the  honor,  excusing  myself  on  the 
ground  of  important  engagements  which  would 
compel  me  to  leave  the  city  on  Saturday. 

Learning  this,  the  officers  of  the  road  lost  no 
time  in  preparing  for  my  entertainment  on  the 
evening  of  their  success.  I  agreed  to  meet  them 
at  ten  o'clock. 

There  was  just  one  little  difficulty  in  the  way. 
Lotta  did  not  want  me  to  attend.  I  explained  the 
whole  matter;  and,  had  it  not  been  for  the  five 


y.    The  enemies 
drmish ;  but  the 
outflanked   In; it 
r  fifteen  minuLos 
the  bill  was  con- 
of  five  hundred 
Morrisburg,  and 
tter  of  history. 
;he  major  were  in 
of  the  road;  and 
selves  in  a  v,ine 
•  evening, 
ng  to  Morrisburg 
t  to  be  given  by 
a  for  my  services ; 
ig  myself  on  the 
tits  which  would 
iturday. 

the  road  lost  no 
tainment  on  the 
:ed  to  meet  them 


iculty  in  the  way. 

I  explained  the 

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THAT  YOUNG  MAN. 


189 


thousand  dollars  which  I  expected  to  receive  on 
the  occasion,  her  consent  would  not  have  been 
given. 

Promising  to  give  her  half  the  money,  not  to 
drink  any  wine,  and  to  be  home  by  twelve  o'clock, 
she  reluctantly  consented. 

The  party  consisted  of  some  twenty  persons,  all 
of  •whom  were  fond  of  champagne,  and  most  of 
them  of  cigars. 

We  drank  and  talked  and  smoked  until  twelve 
o'clock,  when  most  of  the  friends  retired.  At  that 
hour,  in  company  with  the  three  railroad  officers,  I 
was  conducted  to  an  adjoining  room,  where  we  sat 
down  to  an  elegant  luncheon. 

When  we  had  refreshed  ourselves,  the  general 
rose  with  some  formality,  and  began  to  clear  his 
throat. 

"Gentlemen,"  he  began,  "here  is  to  a  book 
called  '  Distinguished  Americans.'  The  author  is 
a  genius,  and  his  patrons  are  asses." 

We  all  drank  to  the  sentiment,  amid  roars  of 
laughter.  Then  the  general,  in  an  easy  and  out- 
spoken way,  confessed  his  admiration  for  the 
scheme,  and  his  distaste  for  the  principle  which  led 
him   and   so  many  others  to  become  its  victims. 


\ 


-  ja8i'-M8iiafeu!sfe-«S3Sg:'<ifr' 


tf-' 


:|  "'» 


iv'A 


190 


7^7/4  r  YOUNG  MAN. 


He  was  careful  at  the  same  time  to  enforce  the 
idea  that  no  offence  was  intended. 

Col.  Briggs  followed  with,  — 

"The  Melville,  Morrisburg,  and  Mississippi 
Railroad,  and  its  beftefactor,  Mr,  Jean  Clarkson." 

The  sentiment  was  drank  heartily,  and  some 
curious  comments  were  indulged  concerning  the 
relations  which  I  sustained  to  the-  road. 

Major  Brown  followed,  in  a  toast  to  my  health, 
which  was  enthusiastically  drank.  Then  he  pre- 
sented the  draft  for  five  thousand  dollars,  my 
reward,  according  to  previous  agreement,  in  a  neat 
little  speech,  in  which  he  paid  me  a  handsome  com- 
pliment, and  acknowledged  himself  and  his  col- 
leagues still  rriy  debtors. 

We  drank  all  round  once  more.  The  trio  waited 
patiently,  expecting  my  reply.  This  I  gave  them, 
saying,  — 

"  Gentlemen,  fill  your  glasses."  - 

They  obeyed,  and  I  continued,  — 

"  The  Legislature  and  the  Press.  The  purity  of 
the  first  is  excelled  only  by  the  consistency  of  the 
last.     We  recognize  in  both  our  country's  hope." 

They  all  drank  heartily,  amid  roars  of  laughter. 


le  to  enforce  the 
:d. 

and    Mississippi 
Jean  Clarkson." 
:artily,  and   some 
d  concerning  the 
•  road, 

ast  to  my  health, 
c  Then  he  pre- 
sand  dollars,  my 
cement,  in  a  neat 

a  handsome  corn- 
self    and   his   col- 

The  trio  waited 
rhis  I  gave  them, 


s.     The  purity  of 
:onsistency  of  the 
;ountry's  hope." 
oars  of  laughter. 


THAT  YOUNG  MAN. 


191 


CHAPTER  XXVII. 

I  RETURNED  from  the  wine-supper  at  four 
o'clock  in  the  morning.  Lotta  had  retired,  but 
awaited  ray  coming  with  tearful  and  sleepless  eyes. 

She  would  not  be  comforted  :  my  best  endeavors 
were  futile. 

"  O  Jean !  Jean !  I  would  rather  have  a  humble 
home  in  some  secluded  country-spot,  and  live  on 
bread  and  water,  than  endure  this  !" 

"  What  is  the  matter,  Lotta  ?  what  have  I  done  .? " 

"  You  are  going  to  ruin :  I  know  it !  Fasci- 
nated by  speculation,  unholy  and  unjust,  you  drown 
your  sense  of  honor  in  the  accursed  wine,  and  rush 
madly  on ! " 

"  What  in  the  world  do  you  mean,  Lotta  1 "  I 
became  impatient  under  her  wholesale  denuncia- 
tions, and  took  her  to  task  in  a  tone  of  self-defence. 

I  offered  her  the  draft  for  five  thousand  dollars, 
and  she  cast  it  from  her  in  frantic  abhorrence. 


193 


THAT  YOUNG  MAN. 


%  V 


"  I  despise  the  wages  of  your  unholy  service !  " 

The  draft  narrowly  escaped  the  fire,  but  I  rescued 
it  untarnished. 

"  Jean,  you  will  never  be  permitted  to  enjoy  this 
ill-gotten  money.  Something  has  told  me  to-night 
that  there  is  trouble  ahead,  and  I  feel  sure  ve  are 
to  meet  an  unexpected  calamity  soon." 

Lotta  had  spent  the  night  alone  with  God  and 
her  Bible.  The  Good  Spirit  had  shown  her  the 
true  character  of  my  speculations,  and  given  her  a 
forecast  of  their  oncoming  reward. 

I  used  my  best  energies  to  console  her  spirit,  but 
to  no  avail.  The  morning  light  sent  its  first  rays 
into  our  room,  and  found  her  still  sobbing  with 
grief,  while  by  her  side,  buried  in  sleep  superin- 
duced by  dissipation,  I  lay,  unconscious  of  her  sor- 
row. 

Partially  raising  herself,  she  looked  anxiously  into 
my  wine-flushed  face  ;  then  lifting  her  eyes  heaven- 
ward, she  prayed  as  only  heart  of  helpless  woman 
can,  imploring  Him  with  whom  is  all  power  and  all 
grace  to  save  me  from  the  snares  into  which  my 
strange  speculations  were  rapidly  leading  me. 

There  was  nothing  which  'she  was  not  ready  to 
yield  up  to  perfect  the  condition,  necessary  to  se- 
cure the  answer  to  her  prayer.         ' , .  .  r ^     . 


(AN. 

unholy  service ! " 
e  fire,  but  I  rescued 

nitted  to  enjoy  this 
as  told  me  to-night 
[  I  feel  sure  ve  are 
soon." 

.lone  with  God  and 
lad  shown  her  the 
ns,  and  given  her  a 
rd. 

msole  her  spirit,  but 
t  sent  its  first  rays 
•  still  sobbing  with 
d  in  sleep  superin- 
onscious  of  her  sor- 

aoked  anxiously  into 
ing  her  eyes  heaven- 
;  of  helpless  woman 
1  is  all  power  and  all 
ares  into  which  my 
lly  leading  me.  ' 

le  was  not  ready  to 
on,  necessary  to  se- 


T/fAT  YOUNG  MAN. 


193 


"  Save  him  from  sin,  not  in  my  way,  but  in  thine 
own  way  ;  but  save  him  now  !  If  it  be  •necessary, 
take  from  us  these  ill-gotten  gains!  Give  us  a 
home  in  poverty  and  obscurity,  —  even  in  want  and 
humiliation, —  if  only  with  these  thou  canst  bring 
him  to  thyself.  I  freely  give  up  all !  'tis  all  I  have ; 
I  would  that  it  were  more !  but  give  me  my  hus- 
band free  from  sin.  Till  this  be  done,  I  pray  for- 
ever more ! " 

Thus  pleaded  the  sorrowing  Lotta,  as  the  morn- 
ing light  came  gently  forth,  —  the  hour  in  which 
most  great  prayers  have  been  greatly  answered. 
Nor  prayed  she  in  vain. 

A  spirit  softly  whispered,  "Thy  prayer  is  an- 
swered :  fear  not ;  for  it  is  your  Father's  good 
pleasure  to  give  him  the  kingdom."  Thus  re- 
lieved, she  fell  back  in  patient  waiting  for  the 
coming  of  the  Lord. 

There  is  no  power  this  side  of  heavei^  strong 
enough  to  face  the  prayers  of  a  holy  Christian 
wife :  at  her  command  the  angels  wait  in  anxious 
preparation  to  execute  th(^  errands  of  love  and 
mercy  :  and  these  are  often  consummated  through 
tears,  sorrow,  affliction,  and  sometimes  death. 

The  days  and  weeks  and  months  followed.     A 


-T' 


iy 


THAT  YOUNG  MAN. 
194 

large  establishment  in  a  well-known  Western  city 
had  been  fully  equipped  in  every  department  for 
printing  and  binding. 

Presses  large  and  small,  dry  presses,  euttmg- 
machines,  type,  and  kindred  apparatus,  all  were  in 
position.  A  large  stock  of  blank  paper  reached 
in  huge  piles  the  ceiling  of  the  store-room.  Nearly 
two  hundred  thousand  dollars  were  thus  invested.  ^^ 

Orders  had  accumulated  for  "  Clarkson's  Forms 
to  the  extent  of  many  thousand  dollars,  and  many 
an  anxious  inquiry  had  come  protesting  our  delays. 
At   length   all  was   in   readiness.     The  wheels 
be-an  to  turn,  the  cylinders  to  revolve,  the  huge 
knives  to  raise  and  fall,  when  lo !  in  the  midnight 
hour,  a  fire,  kindled,  methinks,  in  answer  to  that 
morning   prayer,   by   the  hand   of   some   de^^ted 
angel  it  may  be,  sent  its  devouring  flames  from 
basement  to  roof  in  torrid,  melting  madness,  unt. 
type,  p?esses.  and  their  kindred  machinery,  rolled 
too-ether  in  one  shapeless,  useless  mass  of  rmn. 

On  the  day  previous,  we  had  decided  as  to  the 
amount  and  the  comfanies  for  our  needed  msur- 
ance ;  but  the  devouring  element  left  us  no  time 
wherein  to  execute  the  belated  decision. 

Once  more  all  was  gone.    The  last  dollar  had 


;■":•:  rrr  ntr'-^-'™ 


!AN. 

nown  Western  city 
cry  department  for 

ry   presses,  cutting- 
pparatus,  all  were  in 
)lank  paper  reached 
store-room.     Nearly 
were  thus  invested. 
"  Clarkson's  Forms  " 
id  dollars,  and  many 
uotcsting  our  delays, 
.diness.     The  wheels 
to  revolve,  the  huge 
lo!  in  the  midnight 
Ivs,  in  answer  to  that 
nd   of   some   devoted 
evouring  flames  from 
nelting  madness,  until 
Ircd  machinery,  rolled 
elcss  mass  of  ruin, 
lad  decided  as  to  the 
for  our  needed  insur- 
ement  left  us  no  time 
ed  decision. 

The  last  dollar  had 


THAT  YOUNG  MAN. 


»9S 


been  invested.  Nor  was  this  all.  Fifty  thousand 
dollars  of  debt  had  been  incurred  by  the  new  Hrm 
for  money  borrowed,  or  materials  bought. 

"  God  has  done  it,  Jean." 

I  made  no  reply. 

"  It  is  all  for  your  good." 

I  answered  nothing. 

"He  will  take  from  us  that  which  comes  by 
unfair  means.  ,  The  wicked  shall  not  prosper/* 
continued  Lotta. 

I  was  dumb,  and  could  answer  nothing;  almost 
discouraged,  yet  not  altogether.  This  was  the 
hardest  blow  of  my  life.  Notwithstanding  all  my 
triumphs,  I  was  now  penniless  and  in  debt. 

Lotta  endeavored  to  show  me  the  wrong  of  my 
money-getting  plans;  declared  that  my  schemes 
were  unholy,  and  such  as  Heaven  could  not  bless. 

She  used  arguments  which  I  had  no  means  of 
answering,  and  convinced  me  that  there  is  no  short- 
cut to  wealth  unattended  by  dangers  and  disasters. 

Let  every  one  just  starting  in  life,  who  reads 
this  little  book,  learn  lessons  of  sv»,;vlom  from  the 
mistakes  of  that  young  man. 


■smsmtrssew"^^ 


-r^TT^^^i^'-A^  '-^raftft-  '---X^  ■' 


196 


THAT  YOUNG  MAN. 


CHAPTER  XXVIII. 

LOTTA'S  time  had  now  fully  come.  She  set 
herself  fully  at  work,  in  the  hope  that  through 
her  counsel  she  might  give  me  a  proper  view  of  my- 
self. She  had  never  felt  satisfied  with  my  moral 
standing,  and  had  become  settled  in  the  belief  that 
my  prosperity  was  not  real. 

Lotta  was  a  true  Christian,  a  consistent  church- 
member,  and  a  faithful  wife.     She  loved  her  hus- 
band, notwithstanding  his  faults,  and  hoped  for  his 
final  rescue  from  every  besetting  mistake,  in  the 
face  of  his  wildest  and  most  unscrupulous  schemes. 
She  was  not  the  woman  ever  to  despair.     With 
a   tireless   patience,  she   could   wait   through   the 
long  years  for  the   triumph  of   her  cause.     With 
God  on  her  side,  she  had  a  majority,  and  was  will- 
ing to  suffer  temporary  defeat  for  the  sake  of  per- 
manent victory. 

Few  men  arc  able  to  estimate  the  value  of  a 


AN, 


/III. 

illy  come.  She  set 
c  hope  that  ihroiiyh 
;i  proper  view  of  my- 
sfied  with  my  moral 
cd  in  the  belief  that 

L  consistent  church- 
She  loved  her  hiis- 
s,  and  hoped  for  his 
ting  mistake,  in  the 
iscrupulous  schemes. 
er  to  despair.  Wilh 
d  wait  through  the 
of  her  cause.  With 
lajority,  and  was  will- 
for  the  sake  of  pcr- 

matc  the  value  of  a 


ril?lT  YOl'NG  MAN. 


m 


good  woman.     Few  give  lliem  credit  fi)r  llie  power 
and  talents  they  possess. 

I  was  brilliant,  but  Lotta  was  subst.antial ;  I  elo- 
quent, she  devoted.  I  talked  much,  and  was  act- 
ive ;  she  thought  much,  and  was  (luiet.  I  had 
knowledge,  she  wi.sdom  ;   I  tact,  she  talent. 

She  did  not  mourn  over  my  loss,  but  rather  to 
her  it  seemed  a  relief ;  and  I  could  not  understand 
it.  All  had  been  swept  away,  and  we  were  in 
debt ;  yet  Lotta  appeared  happier  than  she  had  for 
years  before. 

I  had  been  out  all  day,  trying  to  re-organizc  my 
business  affairs,  but  with  no  satisfactory  result. 
Evening  had  come,  and  the  world  seemed  dark  and 
cold.  I  returned  to  Lotta,  and  tried  to  comfort 
myself  in  the  thought  that  she  was  not  disheart- 
ened. . 

"  Why  are  you  so  happy,  Lotta,  under  our  mis- 
fortune } "  I  asked. 

"  Because  it  is  more  honorable  not  to  have,  and 
yet  deserve,  than  to  have,  and  not  deserve." 

"Why,  Lotta,  you  must  have  been  reading 
Shakspeare  or  one  of  the  moral  philosophers ! " 

"  Yes,  Jean,  and  for  your  benefit.  It  was  Shak- 
speare who  wrote,  —  ' 


;^-..Is;»'^~*r? 


il 


i\ 


r  •    * 


198 


THAT  YOUXG  MAX. 


'  To  mourn  a  niisi  hicf  lluil  is  past  and  ;;uiie, 
Is  tlif  next  WAS  to  (Ir.iw  new  niisi  liirf  on, 
Wliat  cannot  be  i)n.scrvcil  when  iortunc  takes, 
Tationcc  Irt  injury  a  mockery  ni.ikcs. 
The  roljbcil  that  snilies  ste.ils  sometiiing  from  the  thief; 
He  robs  himself  that  spends  a  bootless  grief.'  " 

"  I  wish  I  could  appreciate  your  good  humor, 
Lotta ;  but  I  am  sad,  half  discouraged.  I  do  not 
understand  it." 

"  Jean,  did  it  never  occur  to  you,  that  misfortune 
and  misconduct  were  born  twins  ? " 

"  What  do  you  mean,  Lotta  ? " 

"  That  your  faults  are  the  parent  of  your  woes." 

"Why,  Lotta,  do  you  pretend  to  say  that  I 
deserve  this,  that  I  have  earned  it  ?  " 

"  Have  you  no  faults,  Jean  ? "  ' 

"  Yes,  I  suppose  I  have :  all  have  faults,  more  or 
less." 

"  Have  you  no  great  faults  ? " 

"No!" 

"No?" 

"  Why,  Lotta,  what  have  I  done  > " 

"  You  shall  answer  that  yourself,  Jean.  Listen 
patiently,  while  I  put  you  to  the  test.  Will  you  let 
me?" 


tfiili^fUn^'i 


ml  ;;<'nc, 
lirf  on. 

irtiinc  takes, 

;cs. 

Llliinjj;  from  the  thief  s 

lluss  grief.'  " 

your  good   humor, 
ouragcd.    I  do  not 

ou,  that  misfortune 
I?" 

;nt  of  your  woes." 
nd   to  say  that  I 
it?" 

ave  faults,  more  or 


tie  > " 

■self,  Jean.     Listen 

test.     Will  you  let 


T///ir  YOUNG  MAN. 


199 


"Yes  ;  goon," 

•'No.  I.  Keep  good  company  or  none.  Be  honest, 
and  answer,  Jean." 

..  Well  —  I  —  well,  call  it  doubtful:' 

"  Yes,  Jean,  we  will  call  it  doubtfuV 

"No.  2.  Nrecrbc  idle.     Answer." 

"  Yes,  I'm  never  idle :  all  right  this  time.     Go 

on. 

"That  is  a  fact,  Jean.  It  is  true,  you  are  never 
idle.  I  hope  you  will  measure  as  well  all  the  way 
through.  Well,  No.  3.  Ahvays  speak  the  truth. 
Answer." 

"Doubtful." 

"  Why,  Jean,  do  you  ever  lie  ? " 

"  Well,  no,  —  that  is,  I  used  to  tell  those  railroad 
men  and  legislators  some  pretty  tough  stories." 

"Then,  Jean,  is  not  that  a  great  fault  V 

"  Well,  go  on.     What's  next }  " 

"No.  4.  Make  few  promises,  and  live  itp  to  your 
engagements.     Answer." 

"  Fair  to  middling.     Goon." 

"  No.  5.  Drink  no  kind  of  intox /rating  liquors. 
Answer,  Jean."  . 

"  O  Lotta !     I  give  it  up.     Go  on." 

"  No.  6.  Always  live  within  your  means.  An- 
swer." . 


^  -iaii^itUii«m!AmifS!ieBMi»ti»^N*'^- 


20O 


THAT  YOUNG  MAN. 


"  I  pass.     Go  on,  Lolta,  go  on." 
"  No.  7.  Ma/ce  no  haste  to  be  rich  if  you  ivoiild 
prosper.     Answer." 

"  I  give  that  up  too.     Go  on." 
"  No.  8.  Avoid  temptation  through  fear  that  you 
will  not  be  able  to  ivithstand  it.     Answer." 
"  O  Lord  !     Give  us  No.  9." 
'••  Well,  No.  9.  Never  run  in  debt  unless  you  see 
plainly  a  zvay  to  get  out  again.     Answer." 
"  Floored  !     Give  us  No.  10." 
"Well,  No.  10.  Be  just  before  you  are  generous. 
Answer." 

"  I  can't.     Give  me  the  next  number." 

"No.   II.  Read  some  portion  of  the  Bible  every 

'     "  Go  on,  Lotta :  it  is  getting  worse  and  worse." 

"Well,    No.    W2.    Never   swear,    never   deceive. 
Answer." 

"  Hold  on,  Lotta !  give  us  a  rest." 
"  Very  well :  what  do  you  think  of  your  measuie- 
ment,  Jean }" 

"It's  a  tight  fit:   you  have  drawn  it  too  hard. 
Say,  Lotta,  where  did  you  get  hold  of  those  twelve 

ideas?"  - 

"  Do  you  not  think  me  capable  of  having  twelve 

ideas,  Jean?" 


'  ^tu^'^m 


H,-^.Tia!»i-.|WWli^.Mli8.'*l' 


N. 


ich  if  yon  ivoiild 


ugh  fear  that  yon 
Answer." 

cbt  unless  you  see 
Answer." 

you  are  generous. 

umber." 

of  the  Bible  every 

/orse  and  worse." 
ar,    never   deceive. 

2St"  '      '  ' 

ik  of  your  measuie- 

drawn  it  too  hard, 
old  of  those  twelve 

le  of  havip-s  twelve 


TlfAT  YOUNG  MAN. 


201 


"I  didn't,  honestly;  not  such  as  you  have  just 
uttered.     You're  a  philosopher." 

"  And  what  are  you,  Jean  ?  " 

"  I'm  busted,  ruined  in  fortune ;  and,  according, 
to  your  twelve  inches,  I  don't  measure  a  foot  in  "  — 

"  Moral  character .'  " 

"Well,  Lotta,  I  suppose  that's  what  you  call  it. 
You  are  always  talking  about  morals,  or  religion, 
or  something  good.  Lotta,  you  are  a  true,  good 
little  woman.  Women  ought  to  be  good.  Men 
would  never  love  them  if  they  were  not." 

"  Suppose  we  should  reverse  your  words,  Jean, 
and  say  men  ought  to  be  good :  women  would  not 
love  them  if  they  were  not." 

"  Lotta,  you  are  mighty  sharp  to-night.  You 
must  have  eaten  the  philosopher's  stone.  It  is  all 
well  enough  to  talk  about  morality  ;  but  you  can't 
live  on  it.  You  see  we  are  penniless  ;  and  with  us 
it's  a  matter  of  dollars  and  cents." 

"  You  wrong  yourself,  jean.  Man  is  to  be  rated, 
not  by  his  hoards  of  gold,  not  by  the  simple  or 
temporary  influence  which  he  may  for  the  time 
exert,  but  by  his  unexceptional  principles,  relative 
both  to  character  and  religion.  Take  these  away, 
and  you  take  his  manship.  To  be  great  is  to  be 
good  ;  to  be  good  is  to  be  wise."        -  . ' 


I 


202 


THAT  YOUNG  MAN. 


"  You  arc  right,  Lotta ;  and  you  are  both  good 
and  wise.  I  am  nobody,  nothing.  Here  you  are, 
with  just  as  much  to  make  yotl  valuable  as  ever. 
Here  I  am  :  having  lost  my  money,  I've  lost  all. 
Lotta,  you  know  more  than  I  do." 

"  Do  you  believe  that,  Jean  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  do.     I  mean,  you  are  wiser  than  I  am." 

"Then,  if  you  believe  I  am  wiser  than  you  are, 
why  will  you  not  heed  my  advice  V 

"  It  seems  like  getting  henpecked  to  take  a 
woman's  advice ;  but,  Lotta,  I'll  tell  you  what  I'll 
do.  There's  a  screw  loose  somewhere.  A  careful 
examination  of  the  past  has  convinced  me  that  there 
is  something  wrong.  I  believe,  that,  in  the  long 
run,  the  right  triumphs,  and  wrong  fails  or  gets  de- 
feated. I  have  made  up  my  mind  to  take  your 
advice  for  one  year,  as  an  experiment." 

"  Will  you,  Jean .'    Truly,  will  you .'  "       , 

"  Yes.     I  give  you  my  word." 

"  Think  carefully,  Jean.  Remember  that  stub- 
born will.     Now  think,  and  then  tell  me  again." 

"  Yes,  Lotta,  I  will." 

"  Kiss  me  on  it,  Jean.  I  want  some  pledge  by 
which  I  can  hold  you." 

We  kissed.    And,  so  far  as  I  was  able,  I  passed 


3U  are  both  good 

;.     Here  you  are, 

valuable  as  ever. 

ney,  I've  lost  all. 


viser  than  I  am." 
ser  than  you  are, 

ecked  to  take  a 
tell  you  what  I'll 
A'here.  A  careful 
iced  me  that  there 
that,  in  the  long 
\g  fails  or  gets  de- 
nind  to  take  your 
:ient." 


you 


?" 


ember  thai,   stub- 
tell  me  again." 

t  some  pledge  by 

iras  able,  I  passed 


TIJAr  YOUNG  MAN. 


203 


myself  over  into  Lotta's  management;  for  I  was 
thoroughly  sick  of  myself. 

•'  May  I  begin  now,  Jean  1 " 

"  Yes,  but  go  careful ;  no  fooling." 

"  All  right.  It  is  time  to  retire.  Read  a  chapter 
for  me  in  the  Bible." 

"  Oh,  pshaw,  Lotta !  don't  go  to  fooling ! " 

"  Fooling }    Do  you  call  reading  the  Bible  fool- 


ing ? 


"  No,  but — come.     I  am  sleepy  ;  let  us  retire." 

"  Then  you  are  going  to  break  your  promise  on 
the  very  start } " 

"No,  I  won't;"  and  I  took  the  Bible  from  her 
hand,  and  opened  it,  feeling  very  foolish,  and  began 
"  to  read.  The  chapter  I  hit  on  explained  the  differ- 
ence between  the  house  built  upon  a  rock,  and  that 
built  upon  the  sand.  Lotta  tried  to  apply  the  les- 
son, and  I  thought  it  was  not  altogether  inappro- 
priate. 

"  Now,  Jean,  let  us  say  our  prayers.  I  have  had 
to  pray  alone  these  ten  years,  and  I  don't  propose 
to  do  it  any  more." 

"  Lotta,  if  you  carry  this  thing  too  far,  I  will 
throw  up  the  contract,  and  give  it  up.  There  is  no 
use  m..!dng  a  fool  of  yourself  and  me  too." 


204 


THAT  YOUNG  MAN. 


"  Oh  !  then  you  thhik  it  foolish  to  pray,  Jean  ? " 
"  No,  it  is  all  right  to  pray ;  but  there  is  a  time 

and  a  place  for  every  thing." 

"  It  seems  like  a  good  place  right  here,  and  the 

time  could  not  be  more  appropriate.     Come,  Jean, 

you  may  say  it  all  over  to  yourself,  and  jio  one  will 

know  a  word  of  it  but  the  Lord." 


^iW<faw  j'Ai  ^aJu^lfeiM-mtli'  itiiiiVm^ 


lU^MMWiiW'^^it^Wfe^MWr " 


IN. 

1  to  pray,  Jean  ? " 
It  there  is  a  time 

ight  here,  and  the 
iate.  Come,  Jean, 
If,  and  jio  one  will 


THAT  YOUNG  MAN. 


205 


,       CHAPTER   XXIX.       .       " 

TIME  rolled  steadily  on.  For  one  year  and 
more  Lotta  had  had  her  own  way  in  nearly 
every  thing.  In  a  few  instances  my  rebellious 
nature  would  not  submit,  but  in  each  case  the  con- 
sequent unrest  spoke  eloquently  in  her  favor. 

I  had  forsaken  all  kinds  of  business  entirely,  and 
had  accepted  a  position  as  librarian  in  a  well-known  , 
Western  State  institution.  The  salary  was  two 
thousand  dollars  a  year  ;  but  with  this  income,  and 
with  Lotta's  management,  we  could  save  about 
twenty  dollars  a  week. 

It  Was  a  year  of  resignation,  of  trial,  of  self- 
sacrifice,  of  humiliation.  My  nature  was  strong, 
and,  lashed  into  a  foam  by  onsweeping  temptations, 
its  yearning  billows  ran  mountain  high  ;  but  the 
firm  hand  of  Lotta  was  sufficient  to  hold  the  helm. 
We  braved  the  tempest  through  many  storms, 
fought  many  battles,  and  won  many  victories,  that 
the  world  knew  not  of. 


TT 


I 


2o6 


THAT  YOUNG  MAS. 


Settled  in  our  quiet,  humble  home,  I  had  much 
to  endure,  much  to  resist,  to  overcome.  The 
tempter  was  often  an  intrudhig  guest.  There  were 
hours  when  I  could  sec  no  real  good  in  restraint ; 
but  the  cloud  would  pass,  and  the  sunshine  of  peace 
and  humble  joy  reveal  the  merit  of  Lotta's  advice. 

I  struggled  on.  One  after  another,  I  put  my 
faults  under  my  feet.  From  smoking  four  times  a 
day,  I  came  down  to  twice,  finally  once,  and  then 
gave  it  up  altogether.  Trivial  as  this  may  seem, 
it  was  one  of  the  hardest  struggles  I  had  to  endure ; 
and  had  it  not  been  for  Lotta's  wise  management, 
in  leading  me  step  by  step,  I  should  never  have 
graduated  out  of  the  evil. 

In  one  bold  stroke,  I  threw  all  kinds  of  wine 
and  liquors  overboard.  This  was  less  difficult  with 
me  than  would  have  been  the  case  with  others,  yet 
it  was  by  no  means  easy.  There  were  times  when 
Satan,  incarnated  in  the  alluring  glass,  came  sur- 
rounded by  honorable  associations,  in  the  reception 
or  at  the  party  ;  and  on  more  than  one  occasion  I 
had  to  look  into  Lotta's  face  for  my  latitude  and 
longitude.  There  were,  with  me,  times  of  honest 
doubt  as  to  what  was  right  and  wrong  ;  with  Lotta, 
never.     I  often  found  her  as  hard  a  master  as  the 


"mi-i. 


M««tna^i^««t^&«er9'(M6«9Bfc 


se^-'jsi^*^-^^^'^--  ■ 


/.v. 

lomc,  I  had  much 
overcome.  The 
uest.  There  were 
;ood  in  restraint ; 
sunshine  of  peace 
oi  Lotta's  advice, 
nother,  I  put  my 
iking  four  times  a 
lly  once,  and  then 
as  this  may  seem, 
;s  I  had  to  endure ; 
wise  management, 
should  never  have 

all  kinds  of  wine 
s  less  difficult  with 
se  with  others,  yet 
;  were  times  when 
g  glass,  came  sur- 
is,  in  the  reception 
an  one  occasion  I 
or  my  latitude  and 
le,  times  of  honest 
vrong ;  with  Lotta, 
d  a  master  as  the 


I 


r 


THAT  YOUNG  MAN. 


207 


idea  of   submitting  at  all  to  be  governed  by  the 
advice  of  a  woman. 

This  latter  feeling,  however,  was  the  most  insur- 
mountable difficulty.  "  A  man  who  cannot  govern 
himself  is  not  a  man ! "  would  often  rise  in  irre- 
sistible fury,  and  manifest  itself  in  disobedience  of 
the  most  benevolent  restraint ;  but  beneath  the 
mild  yet  powerful  sway  of  Lotta's  persuasive,  win- 
ning arguments,  it  would  sink  again  into  remorse 
and  defeat. 

What  my  greatest  difficulty  was,  it  may  be,  is 
your  greatest  fault,  —  that  of  being  unable  to  con- 
trol myself,  and  refusing  to  acknowledge  it.  Few 
people  are  willing  to  admit  the  need  of  outside  power 
to  the  accomplishment  of  self-control :  yet  until 
they  come  to  this  admission  they  cannot  hope  to 
inaugurate  any  degree  of  self-government. 

The  greatest  temptation,  the  one  most  difficult 
of  defeat,  came  in  the  shape  of  opportunities  to 
embark  in  speculation  and  business.  On  one  occa- 
sion I  received  the  following  letter  :  — 

^— — 187-. 
Jean  Clarkson,  Esq. 

Dear  Sir,  —  Your  name  has  been  mentioned  to   me  in 

the  strictest  confidence  by  Major  Brown,  of  the  Melville, 


2o8 


THAT  YOUNG  MAN. 


Morrisbur-.  and  Mississippi  R;iilroa<l,  ns  the  person  whom 
we  should  secure  to  attend  tl.c  cnsuin-  Con,urcss  in  hclialf 
of  our  road.  We  will  afford  you  an  opportunity  to  make  a 
large  amount;    and,  if  disengaged,  xve  would  like  to   hear 

from  you  at  once. 

Very  respectfully,  ' 

W.  P.  F.  Dodge. 

At  first  I  resolved  to  break  away  from  Lotta's 
restraint,  and  go  to  Washington  in  belialf  of 
Dodge's  dodge;  and,  no  doubt,  would  have  done 
so,  had  an  opportunity  presented  itself  for  carrying 
out  the  resolution  without  her  knowledge. 

At  length,  armed  with  many  ingenious  arguments, 
I  laid  the  whole  matter  before  Lotta,  and  souglit 

her  consent. 

"  Why,  Jean,  we  have  laid  up  nearly  a  thousand 
dollars  the  past  year,  and  h.ave  had  all  we  needed. 
Why  race  after  money  ?  Our  quiet  little  home, 
with  hosts  of  friends,  and  plenty  to  supply  our 
wants,  is  far  to  be  set  above  the  excitements  of 

city  life." 

Thus  Lotta  persuaded  and  wooed  until  I  was 
led  to  send  the  following  reply  to  the  letter  re- 
ceived :  — 


j;iMjjra«M»'  ■iw^-ww' 


Til 


(1,  as  tlie  jjcrson  wliom 
nj5  Cr>nf,'rcss  in  hchaU 
opporlunity  to  make  a 
we  would  like  to   hear 

spectfully, 

W.  1'.  F.  Dodge. 

:  away  from  Lotta's 
igton  in  behalf  of 
bt,  would  have  done 
cd  itself  for  carrying 
knowledge. 
in<ienioiis  arguments, 
re  Lotta,  and  souglit 

ip  nearly  a  thousand 
-  had  all  we  needed. 
iir  quiet  little  home, 
jlenty  to  supply  our 
c  the  excitements  of 

d  wooed  until  I  was 
-ply  to  the  letter  re- 


TUAT  YOUNG  MAN. 


209 


■  IjBKARV,  ■ 


-187-. 


W.  p.  F.  Dodge,  Esq. 

Dear  Sir,  —  I  beg  to  acknowledge  the  receipt  of  your 

letter  of ;  and  in  reply  I  most  respectfully  decline   the 

offer  you  make. 

I  have  the  honor  to  be,  sir, 

Your  most  obedient  servant, 

Jean  Clarkson. 

In  like  manner  were  crushed  many  a  fair  temp- 
tation. Through  each  battle  my  little  general  led 
me  to  final  victory.  She  would  not  compromise 
with  wrong,  and  in  her  strength  I  dared  to  do 
right. 

"  Lotta,"  I  said  one  day,  "  I  don't  like  this  kind 
of  life.  I  would  rather  not  live  than  to  live  out 
the  principles  of  another.  I  must  be  myself,  what- 
ever that  is :  I  cannot  be  another.  I  must  vindi- 
cate my  individuality ;  and  hereafter  you  must  not 
treat  me  as  if  I  were  not  able  to  manage  my  own 
affairs." 

"  O  Jean !  I  never  did  that.  I  can  prove  to  you, 
this  very  day,  that  you  are  a  man  of  your  word ; 
and  that  is  worfh  feeling  proud  of.  You  can  make 
a  promise  ;  but,  better  yet,  you  can  keep  it." 

"  What  do  you  mean,  Lotta  ? " 

"  I  mean  that  one  year  ago  you  promised  to  take 


"^ 


210 


THAT  YOUNG  MAN, 


my  advice  for  one  year,  and  you  have  kept  your 
promise  like  a  man.  I  tliink  more  of  you  for  tliat 
tlian  any  tiling  you  have  ever  done.  It  is  the 
greatest  triumph  of  your  life." 

Lotta  continued,  "  One  year  ago  you  put  the 
government  into  my  hands.  It  was  only  for  one 
year  :  to-day  I  yield  it  up  to  you.  I  have  done  the 
best  I  could.  The  only  reward  I  ask  is  that  you 
will  acknowledge  that  I  have  discharged  the  trust 
faithfully,  devotedly,  loyally,  in  accordance  with 
my  obligations.  You,  Jean,  are  the  constituency. 
By  limitation  the  power  goes  back  into  your  hands. 
It  is  true  I  am  a  candidate  for  re-election,  but  I 
will  rest  my  claim  on  your  good  sense  and  on  the 
merits  of  my  record.     Vote,  Jean  I " 

"  Lotta,  consider  yourself  re-elected  for  another 
term  of  one  year  ;  and  I  will  inaugurate  your  second 
administration  with  a  kiss.". 

There  was  a  power  in  Lotta's  logic  which  touched 
my  heart.  Had  any  other  person  on  the  earth 
dared  to  treat  me  with  half  the  presumption,  blows 
would  have  followed  words  in  quick  succession. 

How  true  it  is  that  a  wife  may  be  the  queen  of 
her  home,  the  ruler  of  her  husband !  But  this 
queenship  does  not  come  of  force.    The  homage 


fAN. 

Du  have  kept  your 
ore  of  you  for  that 
r  done.      It  is   the 

'  ago  you  put  the 
t  was  only  for  one 
1.  I  have  done  the 
I  ask  is  that  you 
schargcd  the  trust 

1  accordance   with 

2  the  constituency. 
:k  into  your  hands. 
»r  re-election,  but  I 

sense  and  on  the 
in!" 

::lectcd  for  another 
igurate  your  second 

ogic  which  touched 
rson  on  the  earth 
presumption,  blows 
lick  succession, 
ly  be  the  queen  of 
isband !  But  this 
rce.    The  homage 


THAT  YOUNG  MAN. 


ail 


paid  it  is  not  compelled.  It  is  a  divine  quccnship, 
but  it  docs  not  come  by  inheritance.  A  woman  may 
have  a  right  to  rule  in  her  own  home,  but  she  can 
never  exercise  it  by  force.  A  king  may  have  a 
right  to  rule  over  his  subjects,  but  he  cannot  long 
possess  his  throne  against  their  will.  Christ  was 
born  a  king,  but  the  additional  kingship  which  he 
won  by  his  wonderful  life  and  sacrificial  death  is 
far  brighter. 

In  such  matters  as  these  Lotta  was  a  philoso- 
pher. In  tiie  wisdom  of  her  plans  she  never  ob- 
jected to  any  thing,  or  set  up  her  opinions  or  wishes 
in  direct  opposition  to  mine.  She  never  opposed, 
—  always  persuaded;  never  complained  when  her 
wishes  were  unheeded,  but  sympathized  when  the 
opposite  course  brought  disaster.  Such  a  creature 
would  have  won  obedience  from  the  hardest  and 
most  wilful  of  natures.     She  conquered  mine. 


5rpr-^r?m"r-*s«- 


•It 


THAT  YOUNG  MAN, 


CHAPTER  XXX. 

T  PULLED  through  another  year  under  Lotta's 
■■-  direction  ;  but  long  before  it  expired,  her  re- 
straints were  not  required.  I  had  exchanged  my 
librarianship  for  a  different  calling,  and  entered  a 
sphere  of  life  down  from  which  I  could  look  upon 
the  speculations  of  the  past  with  thankfulness  to 
Lotta  that  she  had  ever  won  me  from  them. 

I  had  come  into  an  experience,  which,  added  to 
the  scenes  that  made  up  the  active  years  of  my 
life,  qualified  me  for  the  position  of  counsellor  to 
all  young  men ;  and  I  determined,  having  already 
travelled  too  far  in  the  wrong  direction,  to  lift  my 
voice  and  wield  my  pen  in  quiet  but  earnest  en- 
deavors for  the  benefit  of  young  men  everywhere. 

To  mc  a  young  man  at  the  age  of  eighteen  or 
twenty  was  an  interesting  object.  In  his  boasting 
language  I  could  hear  the  wail  of  coming  defeat, 
in  a  deep  but  profound  tone,  far  below  the  exulting 


,nt  .nmufcn   - 


IAN. 


XX. 

year  under  Lotta's 
it  expired,  her  re- 
had  exchanged  my 
lling,  and  entered  a 
I  could  look  upon 
ith  thankfulness  to 
;  from  them. 
ice,  which,  added  to 
active  years  of  my 
on  of  counsellor  to 
tied,  having  already 
lirection,  to  lift  my 
iet  but  earnest  en- 
f  men  everywhere, 
age  of  eighteen  or 
:t.  In  his  boasting 
1  of  coming  defeat, 
■  below  the  exulting 


THAT   YOUNG  MAN. 


2M 


Strains  of  imaginary  triumph.  I  couUl  measure 
his  talents,  weigh  his  words,  estimate  his  charac- 
ter, and  predict  his  fviture,  as  only  one  having  my 
experiences  could. 

My  heart  ached  for  the  smart  young  men.  Of 
ail  grades  of  young  men,  the  brilliant  are  in  the 
most  danger.  Few  if  any  fail  to  meet  early  disas- 
ter ;  and,  of  all  people,  this  class  rest  most  uneasily 
under  defeat. 

His  danger  lies  in  his  smartness,  in  his  bril- 
liancy ;  and  his  danger  to  others  lies  in  the  same 
things.  The  young  lady  of  the  day  turns  from  the 
quiet,  honest,  non-prodigal  young  man,  with  a  toss 
of  her  queenly  head,  for  she  can  sec  nothing  in 
him  worthy  of  admiration  ;  while,  on  the  other 
hand,  she  pays  a  willing  homage  at  the  shrine  of 
prodigal  genius.  '     •-    , 

Hence  the  smart  young  man  is  a  snare  to  all 
young  ladies.  He  first  attracts,  then  charms,  and 
finally  too  often  deceives  them  ;  and,  if  not  inten- 
tionally, by  turning  out  to  be  only  half  the  man  his 
surface  tact  represented  him  to  be. 

He  is  a  snare  to  himself,  and  universally  falls 
a  victim  to  his  smartness.  Petted  by  his  friends, 
falsely  esteemed  by  hosts  of  deluded  admirers,  he 


;, 


. 

L--^ 


214 


TI/AT  YOU  JVC  MA  AT. 


fills  with  conceit,  under  the  weight  ot  which  he 
sinks  into  disgrace. 

The  smart  young  man  is  constantly  making  mis- 
takes. Heedless  of  conservative  advice,  regardless 
of  past  experience,  he  rushes  on  in  visionary  plan- 
nings  after  impracticable  objects,  only  to  meet  the 
most  cruel  failures.  *  - 

If  he  turns  to  business  pursuits,  he  will  over- 
reach and  fall  in  the  first  fluctuation  of  the  market, 
and  he  is  just  the  man  whom  debt  will  most  perse- 
cute. . 

If  he  starts  out  into  professional  life,  he  will 
lean  over  some  precipice  of  adventure,  until,  los- 
ing his  balance,  he  falls  headlong,  to  be  dashed  and 
torn  upoD  the  solid  rocks  below.  Put  him  where 
you  will,  and  he  is  constantly  over-reaching,  over- 
doing himself. 

And  yet,  after  all,  this  young  man  — this  very 
smart  young  man  — if  he  can  only  subject  his 
intellectual  zeal  and  emotional  strength  to  such  a 
benevolent  restraint  as  will  keep  his  actions  in 
harmony  with  even  the  most  radical  possibilities, 
can  and  will  do  more  to  distinguish  his  name  by 
deeds  of  philanthropy,  and  enterprises  for  public 
weal,  than  any  other. 


)«SBBis!««a«»<a8W»«aB»WJess«««!«rfeas8i«»sssa*s> '-  -i iwtiing.iahtf.a-' laiw 


] 


•>« 


\IAN. 

veight  oi  which  he 

stantly  making  mis- 
/e  advice,  regardless 
on  in  visionary  plan- 
ts, only  to  meet  the 
■  \-  - 
rsuits,  he  will  over- 
lation  of  the  market, 
lebt  will  most  perse- 

essional  life,  he  will 
idventure,  until,  los- 
ng,  to  be  dashed  and 
low.  Put  him  where 
J  over-reaching,  over- 

mg  man  —  this  very 
:an  only  subject  his 
.1  strength  to  such  a 
keep  his  actions  in 
:  radical  possibilities, 
inguish  his  name  by 
snterprises  for  public 


THAT  YOUNG  MAN. 


215 


Starting  out  in  life  as  he  does,  with  both  the  ele- 
ments of  success  and  defeat  within  him,  and  with 
the  forces  of  good  and  evil  all  around  him,  this 
smart  young  man  is  an  interesting  object. 

Should  he  fail  in  securing  a  knowledge  of  him- 
self, and,  above  all,  in  maintaining  self-govern- 
ment, his  bark  will  founder  upon  the  reefs  of  ex- 
travagance, in  the  shoals  of  conceit,  with  the  first 
tempest  of  adversity. 

The  conservative,  quiet  young  man  will  scarcely 
ever  reach  the  lieights  of  glory  or  eminence  to 
which  the  smart  young  man,  properly  governed, 
may  attain ;  but  his  success,  in  the  long-run,  will 
be  the  greatest.  Instead  of  tact,  he  has  talent. 
He  may  have  but  little  genius,  but  he  will  gener- 
ally possess  much  wisdom.  He  may  not  shine 
brightly,  but  he  will  wear  long,  and  be  useful.  He, 
too,  is  an  interesting  object. 

Unpopular  with  the  young  ladies,  diffident  in 
manifesting  his  preferences,  it  will  frequently  hap- 
pen that  the  girl  he  loves  will  go  off  and  marry 
that  smart  young  man  without  knowing  that  she 
was  loved  by  him  at  all.  His  prodigal  brother  out- 
strips him  at  every  turn ;  and,  so  far  as  he  can  esti- 
mate by  first  experiences,  it  pays  to  have  a  reputa- 


9l6 


THAT  YOUNG  MAN. 


tion  for  recklessness.  He,  too,  tries  to  be  reckless 
like  his  brother  or  his  companion  ;  but  it's  not  in 
him,  and  he  makes  a  failure  of  it.  He  is  non- 
prodigal  by  nature,  conservative  in  his  intellections, 
conservative  in  his  emotions.    Therefore  he  cannot 

shine. 

His  smart  brother  is  married  at  twenty,  perhaps 
at  nineteen ;  he  narrowly  escapes  being  an  old 
bachelor,    and    marries    at    thirty    or    thirty-five. 
Everybody  knew  his  smart  brother's  betrothed, 
and  the  appointed  nuptial  day,  long  before  his 
marriage ;  and  all  the  people  came  to  the  wedding, 
in  full  dress,  with  handsome  presents.     But  in  his 
case  it  was  different.     He  appeared  to  shun  the 
lady  to  whom  he  was  engaged  ;  and,  if  any  one  did 
suspect  such  an  understanding  between  them,  it 
was  on  that  account.    The  marriage-day  came,  and 
the  invitations  were  a  surprise  to  all  to  whom  they 
were  sent.    But  few  came.     There  was  no  great 
display  of  dress,  or  parade  of  presents.     No :  the 
non-prodigal  cannot  shine,  only  the  smart  young 

man. 

The  quiet  young  man  starts  in  a  small  way,  and 
progresses  by  degrees,  and  becomes  rich  or  great, 
and  no  one  realizes  it.    The   smart  young  man 


{AN. 


THAT  YOUNG  MAN 


9ff 


tries  to  be  reckless 
on ;  but  it's  not  in 
of  it.  He  is  non- 
;  in  his  intellections, 
rherefore  he  cannot 

i  at  twenty,  perhaps 
:apcs  being  an  old 
lirty  or  thirty-five, 
brother's  betrothed, 
ly,  long  before  his 
ame  to  the  wedding, 
resents.  But  in  his 
»peared  to  shun  the 
;  and,  if  any  one  did 
ig  between  them,  it 
rriage-day  came,  and 

to  all  to  whom  they 
rhere  was  no  great 

presents.     No :  the 
ily  the  smart  young 

s  in  a  small  way,  and 
xomes  rich  or  great, 
!   smart  young  man 


starts  out  with  a  rush  and  a  display,  and  gets  a 
reputation  for  what  he  does  not  possess,  and  a 
glory  for  what  he  does  not  accomplish. 

If  the  Church  succeeds  in  making  a  Christian  of 
the  ^mart  young  man,  he  will  be  sure  to  come  into 
the  ark  with  a  shout  of  glory,  and  his  conversion 
will  attract  great  attention  in  the  whole  neighbor- 
hood, as  though  his  soul  were  worth  half  a  dozen 
of  the  quiet  sort.  The  minister  and  deacons  take 
early  knowledge  of  his  gifts  and  graces,  and  ten 
chances  to  one  if  they  do  not  pet  him  into  the 
ministry.  If  this  does  not  occur,  or  if  his  dSuf 
into  the  Church  is  not  greeted  by  some  such 
demonstration,  the  smart  young  man  will  more 
than  likely  return  to  the  "  beggarly  elements  of  the 
world." 

When  the  plain,  quiet,  conservative  young  man 
joins  hands  with  the  people  of  God,  he  is  not  .so 
apt  to  fix  upon  the  exact  day  and  hour  and  min- 
ute when,  and  upon  the  exact  church  and  pew 
where,  he  was  converted.  His  start  is  in  the  midst 
of  doubts  and  uncertainties,  but  he  runs  well,  and 
at  the  age  of  fifty  you  find  him  one  of  the  deacons  ; 
while  his  smart  brother  is  either  a  Talmage  or  a 
Moody,  at  the  head  of  some  metropolitan  congre- 


2l8 


THAT  YOUNG  MAN. 


gation  or  revival  movement,  or  gone  back  to  the 
world  altogether, 

'^  It  is,  however,  pretty  hard  to  tell  which  is  the 
more  valuable  to  the  world,  the  conservative,  quiet, 
or  the  smart,  brilliant,  young  man.  Certain  it  is, 
the  world  needs  them  both ;  but  of  the  two  classes 
the  former  has  much  the  best  of  this  life.  The 
latter  may  have  glory ;  but  the  former  has  peace, 
which  is  much  better.  The  former  is  a  danger  to 
himself  and  everybody  else,  unless  properly  gov- 
erned. The  latter  is  harmless,  and  if  he  benefits 
no  one  largely  he  will  injure  no  one. 

Th6  great  inventions  of  the  world,  and  the  great 
discoveries  of  all  ages,  may  probably,  for  the  most 
part,  be  traceable  to  the  smart  young  man  ;  so  also 
may  we  thank  him  for  our  great  ships,  railroads, 
bridges,  telegraph-lines,  canals,  cities,  and  public 
improvements.     He  has  done  much  for  the  world. 

Noah  must  have  been  one  of  the  smart  young 
men  of  his  day,  as  none  other  could  have  embraced 
so  radical  a  faith:  hence  we  are  indebted  to  his 
peculiar  make-up  for  the  preservation  of  our  race. 

John  the  Baptist  must  have  been  the  smart 
young  man  of  his  day,  as  the  peculiar  character  of 
his  radical  preaching  plainly  shows :  hence  we  are 


jone  baclw  to  tlie 

tell  which  is  the 
mscrvative,  quiet, 
,n.  Certain  it  is, 
if  the  two  classes 
)£  this  life.  The 
ormer  has  peace, 
ler  is  a  danger  to 
;ss  properly  gov- 
ind  if  he  benefits 
ne.  •  ' 
)rld,  and  the  great 
ably,  for  the  most 
lung  man  ;  so  also 
t  ships,  railroads, 
cities,  and  public 
ich  for  the  world. 

the  smart  young 
aid  have  embraced 
e  indebted  to  his 
ition  of  our  race. 

been  the  smart 
culiar  character  of 
>ws :  hence  we  are 


THAT  YOUNG  MAN. 


319 


indebted  to  him  for  the  first  tidings  of  salvation,— 
nay,  more,  for  the  identification  of  the  Saviour 
among  men.  ,  '  '     ' 

In  Luther  and  Knox  and  Calvin   and  Wesley 
we  find  similar  characteristics,  as  also  in  thousands 
of  others  who  have  blessed  the  world  by  their 
deeds  of  radicalism  ;   but  all  of  these  men  first* 
gained  a  knowledge  of  themselves,  and  then  rose  to 
the  dignity  of  benevolent  self-restraint  to  which  ac- 
complishment their  greatness  is  directly  traceable. 
The  smart  young  man  is  the  mast  and  the  sail ; 
his  quiet,  plain,  conservative  brother  is  the  hull ; 
both  are  necessary  to  complete  the  bark.     But  sad 
indeed  will  be  the  fate  of  the  ship,  if,  when  the 
raging  tempests  blow,  the  sail  is  not  reefed  by  the 
restraining  hand  of  the  experienced  mariner.- 

So  also  do  the  plain,  unassuming,  conservative 
young  men  form  the  grand  base,  substratum,  or 
foundation  of  society,  while  the  whole  social  and 
political  fabric  is  impelled  forward  by  the  out- 
spreading wings  of  radicalism;  but  woe  to  the 
whole  structure,  if  when  the  winds  of  disaster 
blow,  and  the  seas  of  adversity  roll,  the  benevolent 
hand  of  restraint  is  not  up  lifted  by  the  former  to 
guide  the  efforts  of  the  latter  1 


aao 


THAT  YOUNG  MAN. 


Lotta  was  the  foundation,  the  hull,  and  the  helm  ; 
I  the  mast  and  the  sail.  Until  I  could  submit  to 
the  restraint  of  her  wise  counsels,  we  were  often 
cast  away.  It  was  through  this  wilful  disobedience 
that  I  came  to  disaster  in  the  printing  and  station- 
ery business. 

■  But  at  length,  and  "  it  is  better  late  than  never," 
I  gained  a  knowledge  of  myself,  and,  humiliating 
though  it  falsely  seemed,  yielded  to  my  better 
judgment  and  the  wise  counsels  of  one  who  loved 
me  better  than  I  loved  my  life. 

With  this  change  came  the  first  step  towards 
real  success ;  and  step  by  step  the  brave,  patient, 
heroic  little  woman  led  me  on,  and  on,  and  on, 
through  many  a  painful  resignation,  and  to  victory 
over  n\any  a  hard  temptation,  through  thi.  clouds 
and  the  midnight  of  unrest,  out  into  the  clear, 
bright  sunshine  of  peace  and  joy  and  usefulness. 

I  had  lived  half  a  life  to  no  purpose,  as  the  read- 
er has  already  seen.  The  other  half  is  being  filled 
up  with  the  faithful  execution  of  noble  resolves,  for 
the  benefit  of  those  around  me,  to  the  glory  of 
God,  and  to  my  own  inexpressible  satisfaction. 
Such  is  the  story  of 

THAT  VOUNG  MAN. 


"  '^•.JiH^'rm.  ^<-iM».-.iit"J.f':'ji  ■-'i.:^v'j.f  *'-**:yg^ 


r«y»-*i,  ''"'Miwy-Trj' 


hull,  and  the  helm  ; 
I  could  submit  to 
sels,  we  were  often 
wilful  disobedience 
inting  and  station- 
er late  than  never," 
df,  and,  humiliating 
Ided  to  my  better 
s  of  one  who  loved 

;  first  step  towards 
3  the  brave,  patient, 
)n,  and  on,  and  on, 
ition,  and  to  victory 
through  thi,  clouds 
out  into  the  clear, 
oy  and  usefulness, 
purpose,  as  the  read- 
:r  half  is  being  filled 
af  noble  resolves,  for 
me,  to  the  glory  of 
ressible  satisfaction. 


MAN. 


